


Strawberry Moon

by turnyourankle



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Body Swap, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Magic, Summer Solstice, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 18:16:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7372411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnyourankle/pseuds/turnyourankle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry really should have known better than to agree to one of Niall’s schemes. Especially one that involved Irish magic. Then again, how was he supposed to know he and Louis would end up swapping bodies?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strawberry Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [boadiceas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/boadiceas/gifts).
  * Translation into Polski available: [Strawberry Moon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10549422) by [Hazzaczuwa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazzaczuwa/pseuds/Hazzaczuwa)



> So I chose to go with the Freaky Friday/body swap prompt, and I messed around with it a little bit. I do hope it lives up to what you wanted and that your preferences have been satisfied. I had a blast writing it. 
> 
> Huge thanks to Sonja for the beta, and K for the brit pick. Also Kati for the constant cheerleading and encouragements. Couldn't have finished this without you guys ❤️❤️❤️

Louis wakes up from pressure on his bladder.

It’s dull enough that he might be able to go back to sleep, but probably just for another couple of hours. A couple of uneasy, uncomfortable hours. He breaks out in a full body yawn, skin prickling and mouth cottony. He might as well wee and drink some water.

It takes him a couple of seconds to orient himself. He squints his eyes open, the faint street light coming from under the blinds is just enough for him to recognize Harry’s room. It seems flipped somehow, like he’s seeing it from the wrong side, but then again he might still be pissed. 

He closes his eyes again as he slips off the bed, wanting to maintain the comfort of the darkness for as long as possible. He could maneuver his way through Harry and Niall’s house blindfolded. In fact, he has, the year he’d decided he was going to be a convincing mummy and spent the night maneouvring expertly through the flat.

Louis nearly stubs his toe against the counter in the bathroom, and takes that as a hint that maybe he shouldn’t try to blindly navigate the house whilst under the influence. His head is still swimming and his limbs feel heavy and off, as if they’re too big for him. 

He’s feeling lazy enough to sit down to wee, hunching down over his lap. Even his toes feel uncomfortable, and he wiggles them against the cold tile. There’s a weird flash of colour as he moves his toes, and he leans down further only to discover that his toe nails have been painted blue.

Huh.

That’s…unexpected. Must be a new prank of Niall’s. It’s odd that neither he or Harry woke up to Niall sneaking into the room to apply the polish, unless -- unless Harry is in on it too. He can’t rule that out.

He’ll have to think of a proper payback. Maybe something with hair dye? He ducks his head to the tap, swallowing down large gulps of cold water before washing his hands. 

His chin is still dribbling so he tips his head up, wiping his face off with the back of his hand before reaching for a towel and he catches sight of Harry staring back at him in the mirror. 

He blinks at the sight, towel still tight in his grip. 

It might be dark, and Louis might still be pissed, but that’s still very much not his reflection in the mirror. 

He instinctively turns on his heel in the small bathroom, but obviously Harry’s not behind him. He was still heavy against his back when Louis trudged out of bed. And even if Harry were here with him, it wouldn’t explain why Louis’ reflection isn’t in the mirror while Harry's is. So. 

There has to be a logical explanation. 

He opens his mouth and watches in the mirror as Harry’s mouth opens. He brings the towel to his face to dry off his chin and it’s Harry’s large hand, patting down Harry’s sharp jaw. 

Louis must still be high off his rocker. That’s gotta be it, doesn't it? Who the fuck knows what was in the spliffs he shared with Grimmy? Definitely not just pot. Acid? Does acid make you hallucinate? Or what was the new drug Lottie was telling him about, meow meow? 

Grimmy said he had a new source ever since Greg decided to charge twice as much-- maybe whoever the new guy was fucked with the supplies. Cut it with some borax or summat. He’s pulling at his face-- Harry’s face now, cheeks pliable under his touch. 

Right. That’s gotta be it. Explains why he’s feeling off too, loose limbed and skin too tight. 

He can deal with this, he’s just got to go back to sleep, and then whatever he’s under the influence of will, like pass through his system. It’ll be great. 

He’s had worse trips than this… surely. That time in Mallorca he and Harry got lost and broke into someone else’s hotel room, interrupting the most awkward sex he’s ever had the misfortune of witnessing. That certainly counts. So he’s having a little bit of a hallucination. It’s certainly less than ideal but he can’t do much about it. 

At least it’ll make for a sick story one day. 

He repeats this mantra to himself all the while his heart pounds in his chest. 

He shuffles back to Harry’s room, trying to calm the frantic thudding of his heart. The last thing he needs now is to go into a full blown panic attack, s’not gonna help dissipate whatever drug he’s on any faster. 

It’s too dark to make out anything other than Harry’s back as he twists under the sheets. Louis has to squat by his discarded clothes, long fingers finding his phone.

He thumbs through his recents texts and sends Nick a quick, _ The fuck did u give me? Think that spliff wz fucked _

He’s still clutching his phone as he drops onto the bed, careful not to awaken Harry. He tempted to wake him up and explain what he just experienced, but it’s arse o’clock and Harry wouldn’t probably never forgive him. Besides, everything will be back to normal in a matter of hours. 

He listens to Harry’s breathing and nonsense murmurs, the familiarity enough to lull him back to sleep.

 

-

 

The second time Louis wakes up it’s to something vibrating under his shoulder. He shuffles away as best he can, trying to get away from the offending object, unintentionally headbutting Harry’s back.

Harry grunts in response to being jostled, and Louis notes that the sound is higher than expected. Perhaps Harry’s suffering from as spectacular a hangover as he is and is vocalizing his pain with a whine. Louis can certainly empathize.

He twists his arm, pulling it out from under him. It’s his phone, with a couple incoming texts waiting to be read. Makes sense. He tosses it onto the nightstand. 

“Haz,” he says, and wow, yeah, his voice sounds way deeper than normal. He must’ve gotten into some serious shouting matches with Niall and Nick last night. He clears his throat, which only increases the throbbing in his head. 

Harry grunts again, and Louis feels his forehead pressing against his shoulder blade. He’s rubbing against it, wisps of hair sticking against his sweaty skin. The tips of Harry’s hair brushes against his armpit, the tips tickling him which is odd. He’s pretty sure Harry’s hair was still long and curly last night? Surely no one would dare to cut Harry’s hair in his sleep; they’d know they’d have to deal with Louis if they fucked with Harry. 

“Wake up, Haz, we should get some aspirin,” he mumbles, turning around so he can properly wake Harry up except-- except Harry’s face isn’t the one in front of him. 

It’s his. Louis’ own face with his neck and his shoulder and his arms. Louis is in front of Louis, violent yawn overtaking his features before he turns over and burrows his face into the pillow. 

“What,” he deadpans. He does not have the mental capacity to process this kind of mindfuck, a hamster wheel spinning in the recesses of his brain. He screws his eyes shut tightly, trying to force an epiphany to come. 

Last night -- or really, just some hours ago -- he distinctly remembers waking up to a bad trip where he thought he looked like Harry… but that was just a bad trip, wasn’t it? 

Louis can’t control how tentative he sounds when he asks, “Harry?”

“Stop, shouting,” Louis own face with Louis’ own voice responds but with the cadence of Harry and --  _ shit _ . 

Louis scrambles out of bed, limbs caught in the sheets. He can tell just from seeing them that they’re not his. He can tell just looking down at himself that, well, he’s not himself. But he has to make sure, has to actually go to the bathroom and stare into the mirror to confirm that yeah: he looks exactly like Harry. Or really, he is Harry. He grimaces into the mirror, each muscle group seems to respond to his brain's commands. This doesn’t seem so much like a drug induced hallucination anymore. 

He manages to get back into the bedroom in one piece, albeit on somewhat unsteady feet. Harry hasn’t opened his eyes yet, face still firmly pressed into the pillow. 

Louis takes Harry’s hand in his, unused to his being bigger he just stares for a second, thumb pressing against his palm, where a thin cut he got a week ago has just healed over. This is definitely happening.

“Harry, I need you to look at me.” He knees his way onto the bed, and Harry flops over yawning big before blinking his eyes open sleepily. “And I need you to stay calm.”

Harry looks frozen at first, and then the sleep quickly vanishes from his features. A strangled noise making its way out of his throat. He scrambles in the bed, pushing his way up to the headboard, and Louis just squeezes his hand tighter. 

“Louis what is this?” He grimaces at the sound of his voice. “Why do I sound weird? Louis… do I look like you?”

Louis nods, watching as Harry observes his free hand, flexing the fingers. Harry threads his fingers through his hair, causing the short strands to stand on end. His other hand is squeezing Louis back tightly, seemingly unconsciously. Louis continues pressing circles into his palm with his thumb.

“Oh my god.”

He can tell that Harry’s about to panic, which just won’t do. His stomach clenches at the thought of Harry being frenzied and confused and, shit, okay. So he doesn’t know what’s going on either, but for Harry he can try to stay calm. Levity, levity should work. 

“I know, right. Where do you keep your elastics because I can’t deal with this.” He keeps his voice light, gesturing at the mop of curls heavy against his neck. 

Harry arches his eyebrows, a small frown forming on his face. 

“Is that really what you’re thinking about right now?” Harry seems less freaked out and more annoyed at Louis’ question, which Louis takes as a win. He’s used to annoyed; he can deal with that.  

“Can’t expect me to do any kind of thinking when my neck is all hot and sweaty, can you?” 

“It’s on my wrist. Your wrist.” Huh, Harry’s right, there’s an elastic pressing into the skin on his right hand. He peels it off and gathers up his hair. The skin is red and indented below it. 

“That can’t be good for circulation.”

“ _ Louis _ .”

“Calm your tits. Or my tits, I guess.” Harry groans, exasperated. And yeah, okay, this Louis can deal with. “First things first.”

Harry nods in agreement. “Right. What happened?”

Louis blinks at him and a sharp laugh escapes his throat. He tries to cover his mouth with his hand, but Harry’s already scowling at him. 

“Sorry, not sure if I should resent the implication that I know what happened, or appreciate the vote of confidence that I can figure it out.” 

He takes a swig from Harry’s water bottle at the side of the table. Well, his water bottle now, probably? If he didn’t already have a headache he certainly would be getting one now. 

There’s aspirin in the night stand, and he pops one before handing them over to Harry. “If I remember last night properly, you might want to double up.”

Harry obliges, face tense as he swallows down the pills and works his mouth around the water bottle. He licks his lips nervously when he’s down, rolling his bottom lip into his mouth.

Louis distinctly remembers thinking he was still high when he woke up last night. Perhaps they’re just… both high? He grimaces at the idea, but he can’t really discard it without investigating. This isn’t a situation where assumptions will do.

“Did you take anything last night?” He taps his finger against his thigh.

Harry scrunches his face up, eyes becoming slits and eyebrows arching. He sounds hesitant when he answers,“No?” 

Louis rolls his eyes, says, “Okay, I need a slightly more confident answer.”

“No,” Harry says, more determined this time. “No, just… some beers is all. Didn’t want to be too out of it.” He seems to hesitate for a moment. His eyebrows are knotted, and there’s a deep line between them. Louis is pretty sure he’s never made that face in his life.

“Can you stop that, you’re going to give me forehead wrinkles.” 

“Louis. Priorities.” Harry sounds exasperated which is great. Much, much better than freaked out. 

“Well, frankly, I think it’s quite a priority for you to maintain my peak physique until I get my hands back on myself.” He pauses, having to think back over what he just said. It makes sense. 

“There isn’t really a logical explanation since neither of us accidentally took shrooms or acid last night.” He takes another pull off the water bottle. “ Unless we’re having some sort of shared psychotic break, I guess.”

“Folie  à deux,” Harry says. 

“What?”

“It's called folie  à deux, when two people have like, a shared delusion.” Harry’s laid back down in bed, face pensive. That bloody forehead wrinkle is still there, and Louis can’t help but reach out and smooth it out with his thumb. Harry blinks up at him. He opens his mouth but closes it quickly again, tongue darting out over his lips. 

“Right, well unless it's that which I don't think because it's not like we're in a two person cult or anything… Then it’s real.”

“But how?”

“I don’t know but like, nothing else makes sense, does it? I mean we can always back track what happened last night but I reckon we’re not going to figure it out. ” 

Harry’s eyes widen and he looks away, chin pressed low against his chest.

Louis’ phone vibrates against the nightstand, another text coming through, and he grabs at it. Nick’s been respon. 

_????? _  
_ No u prick _  
_ Are you alright? _  
_ Louis answer the bloody phone _  
_ Srsly mate if you’re alive you should answer right now _

Louis huffs. Definitely no drugs involved, then.

He starts a text with a string of skull emojis, and reconsiders. “What’s a good emoji to convey ‘I’m alive, twat?’”

Harry seems to have paled again, not paying attention to what Louis has been saying. He’s fidgeting with the sheets and his mouth is twitching.  Louis pokes him in the ribs and Harry blinks back at him slowly. He’s stiffened along where they touch, the muscles of his stomach tense against Louis arms. “Hey, Haz, come on. Are you okay?”

He shakes his head, and Louis grabs at his shoulders, fingers easily digging into his skin. 

“I think I need to throw up,” Harry says, voice hoarse, turning his face away from Louis, which won’t do at all. This is exactly what Louis is trying to avoid. 

“Hey! I’m six months puke free don’t bloody break my streak.” He pulls at him, and Harry’s pliable in his grip, rearranging himself so he’s leaning over his chest. 

“Is that really all you can think about?” 

Louis scrunches his face up in thought. There are a lot of things to consider, obviously but Harry already looks like he's about to have a panic attack. 

“I mean, it will be interesting to see if I'll be as uncoordinated as you or if I can get your limbs under control.”

“Lou, please.” Harry sounds deflated as he falls back into bed. “Why can't you be serious?”

He's withdrawn in his dramatics, head and body turned away at an angle. Cuddles are always a surefire way to get Harry to calm down so Louis takes this as his cue to move closer. He snuggles in under the sheets, pushing his knees against Harry’s thighs and looping his arm around his torso. They don’t quite fit the way they usually do, obviously It's odd having less of Harry to hold on to, but somehow he still smells the same and feels the same. Sensory memory, perhaps?

He stops trying to figure it out when Harry melts into him. He scratches Loui’s forearm, the fine hairs raising at his touch. 

“This kind of stuff doesn't happen, or we’d read about it all the time, right? So I reckon it’ll pass. Actually maybe we should hope it doesn’t, we'd make a fortune. Undeniable marvels we'll be. Have the whole scientific community at our feet. We could start a road show! Travel the world.” 

Harry snorts at that, his head turning slightly. It’s not enough for Louis to see his expression, but he’s quite certain he can picture it. 

“No one’s gonna pay to see two boys who might be fibbing about swapping places.”

“Ah, but we’ll have witnesses, won’t we? We can bring the whole crew with us. We’ll have to think of a company name, of course.”

Harry laughs again and pulls away. Just enough to turn around and face Louis head on. He’s smiling but it isn’t quite reaching his eyes. 

“Hey,” Louis says, voice soft, “were in this together you know? It'll be fine. We're always fine.”

Harry swallows thickly at that, nails absentmindedly digging into Louis’ arm. Louis can deal with it if it makes Harry feel better. Louis would let him draw blood if he needed to. 

“I mean--” Louis reaches out and flexes his hands, Harry does the same. “It feels real? Like I don’t know, I feel like myself but also I’m obviously not. I could get used to it, I think.”

“Of course, it will be nice to reach the top shelf for once, won’t it?” Harry teases with a smirk. So he’s well enough to tease, is he? If Harry can joke they’re on the right track. 

“Heeey,” Louis drawls out, but there’s no heat in it. Harry looks pleased, and Louis takes this as his cue to move the conversation along. They can’t dwell or they’ll get stuck on more  _ what ifs _ , which is absolutely rubbish and useless. “I’m starving, you should cook me something. And by transitive property it’ll be like I cooked you something, isn’t that grand?”

Harry snorts but doesn’t protest. He uses Louis as a springboard to push himself onto his knees, palms warm against his chest. Louis watches him go, planted more firmly into the mattress. 

“Eggy bread seems like a great way to celebrate this money making venture.” 

Harry rolls his eyes and flips him off, but there’s a definite hint of a smile on his face.

“This is a serious matter, Harold, I feel like I’m going to need a lot more nourishment to keep these limbs functional.” Louis flails his arms about, intentionally whacking Harry about until he starts laughing and flails his arms right back. 

Louis considers this a win for now. 

  
  


***

  
  


Harry needs to speak to Niall. 

That’s why he doesn’t fight Louis on the breakfast issue, even though Louis’ logic is completely unsound. They’ve been over it a thousand times: making breakfast is the least Louis can do in return for crashing and hogging the sheets.

Normally, Harry would refuse, and Louis would pout until he became hungry enough to get started on his own, and then Harry would join in, taking over as Louis minded the kettle and made them tea. He likes cooking for Louis, it’s just that it shouldn’t be  _ assumed _ . 

It’s a nice tradition, that.

But no, Harry needs to find Niall.  

The night before isn’t as hazy as it could have been-- yeah, Harry’d drank a lot of beer, a swig of tequila and a few puffs off a marlboro, but really that had been it. Niall had promised that a summer solstice bonfire would be sick, wild and mythical.

That last part might be right considering what he and Louis woke up to. 

They’d had people over before the bonfire to barbecue. Louis and Liam brought mash as a side, and more six packs than they could possibly drink in one night. Harry had spent most of his time fascinated with the way Louis practically swallowed down his sausages, lips stretched wide around the meat and bun, ketchup smearing across his chin. 

He’d been a little distracted, he knows that. And Niall kept laughing at him, pressing more and more bottles of beer into his hands. Louis had left the early to meet up with Nick. He’d asked Harry to watch his beer, which just meant Niall wasn’t allowed to touch it, and promised to find him at the bonfire. Harry hadn’t bristled at that, no matter what Niall said.

“He’ll be back later,” Niall said, tearing apart a piece of his sausage bun to wipe his plate clean. “S’not gonna miss the bonfire and the chance to get a piggyback ride in public.”

“I know that,” Harry responded. 

Niall was looking at him like his face was doing something meaningful, which Harry was certain it wasn’t. He did not pout when Louis left them, no matter what Niall claimed. And he definitely had his face under control now, too. 

It’s not like he was picturing Louis hitching his legs over Harry’s hips and curling his arms around Harry’s neck as he urged Harry to go faster and get them closer to the fire, where he could really feel the heat from the flames. It was the closest Louis would come to asking if he could sit on Harry’s shoulders, too proud to suggest such a thing. 

Louis was wearing jean shorts, which meant Harry would get to slide his palms along the bare back of Louis’ thighs where the fabric hitched up. Okay. So that thought spiraled out of control rather quickly. 

But it’s not like Niall could read his mind.

He used his nail to worry at the edge of beer label, glancing at Niall surreptitiously. His smirk was almost blinding.

Was he really that transparent?

“You need another?” Niall asked, and Harry shook his head. Louis once told him that peeling the label off your beer bottles was a sign of sexual frustration. That’s probably what Niall was picking up on. He took another pull.

“You’ve still got time,” Niall remarked casually, dropping off his empty beer bottle in the recycling bin and opening a fresh one. 

“I know.” Harry’s response was automatic, but he didn’t actually know what Niall was talking about. “Wait, time for what exactly?”

Niall nodded his head and swallowed down his food, taking a swig of his beer. “Well, to declare your love.”

“Could you… just rewind that whole thought because I don’t quite think I follow.”

“You know, midsummer. It’s the celebration of love.” Niall took another large bite of his bread, cheeks full and puffed out as he chewed. “Well, I guess technically tomorrow is the solstice but I think tonight works just as well?”

“Are you asking me?”

“Yeah?”

“I thought it was the celebration of the longest day of the year.”

“Yeah, so you have time to sweep ‘em off their feet and snog ‘em silly.”

Right, well, that certainly was not going to happen. A short laugh makes its way out of Harry’s throat. He raises his bottle to his chest. He tried to sound unaffected when he spoke, “I certainly haven’t heard that one before.”

Niall laughed, “S’right I forget, your mythology is so purified, no room for real life flesh and blood.”

“Niall, what are you on about?” He was almost scared to hear the answer. 

“My nan always said midsummer is the time of year to find your true love.”

Harry was slightly intrigued by where this was going. “So it’s not really common knowledge, just a family myth?”

“S’not a myth, mate, there’s a whole process involved.That’s when she met her husband. Married sixty years, them two.”

“A process?”

Niall seemed to hesitate, tilting his head and knitting his brow. “Like, well, I guess like a ritual.” 

He started laughing, and Harry laughed back.

“I see, some Irish magic spells, sounds grand.”

“There’s no harm in trying, is there?”

“S’pose not,” Harry said. It might work, in some placebo type way. Harry’d grow some bollocks and actually talk to Louis about how he felt. Just thinking about the possibility was giving him a stomach ache. He could use some magical Irish courage.

“So you wanna try it?” Niall asked, stacking their plates together before tossing them into the bin. He’d picked up a couple more beers for them, cracking them both open even though Harry was still working on his. 

“I s’pose.” 

“Ace.” Harry swallowed down the rest of his beer, and really, the brilliant smile that covered Niall’s face should have been warning enough. “I’ve already got all the supplies.”

Harry really should have known better.

If Louis knew that Harry and his willingness to participate in dodgy hocus pocus schemes were to blame he doubts Louis would be as easygoing about the matter. In fact, he’d probably punch him square in the stomach. Softly, but still. And then give him the silent treatment for as long as he could muster and get frustrated when Harry couldn’t decipher his silent communications attempts. Because while he could be quiet, he couldn’t just cut Harry off completely. 

Worse yet, Harry would have to explain why he agreed to perform an Irish love rite to begin with.

Well, it was mostly Niall’s fault, so maybe he could redirect Louis’ annoyance to him. It might work. 

Niall isn’t in the kitchen, but there’s a bowl in the sink with traces of milk at the bottom, so he must be up and about already. Probably in the shower, or catching up on Facebook in his room. 

He texts Niall, telling him not to leave the house without speaking with him.  Should be ominous enough. cooking playlist infiltrating the kitchen as he pulls out a bowl and a whisk. 

He uses the last of their eggs, cracking them and whisking in sugar and cinnamon. He opens the fridge and picks up the milk carton which is surprisingly light in his hand.  Niall must’ve used the last of it for his cereal. There’s still a carton of cream set aside, so he opts for that. He doubts Louis would mind the richer flavour. 

He drops slices of cinnamon raisin bread into the batter, pushing them around until they’re soaked through as he turns on the pan. When he hears Louis’ characteristic stomping down the stairs he turns on the kettle. 

Louis sniffs behinds him, a pleased hum escaping when he pokes at the toast sizzling in the pan. 

“No bacon?”

“You didn’t ask for bacon.”

“Shouldn’t have to be mentioned, should it? What kind of host are you, Haz?” Louis tips his head at him, expression incredulous. He reaches for one of the pieces of bread sizzling in the pan, dropping it quickly with a yelp. “Shit!”

He sticks his scalded fingers into his mouth, and he sucks at them loudly before pulling them out. 

“If you inflict permanent damage you’ll have hell to pay.” Harry pulls out a plate and gestures at Louis with it; a weak threat, as he quickly scoops the offending toast onto the plate and offers it to him

Louis face lights up, dimples popping brightly. He’s caught off-guard and blinks at the sight, slightly stumped. Louis shakes his head, a pleased hum escaping his throat. 

“Harry, are you poking fun? You are! That’s great. See the matter’s not all that grave after all.”

Harry shrugs. “Then why are you calling it a ‘matter’ sounds serious to me.”

“Just for that attitude I’m changing your music,” Louis says, carrying his plate gingerly. He easily pokes at Harry’s phone with a concentrated frown on his face until Californication spills out of the speakers, Anthony Kiedis’ nasal drone filling the room. 

“I didn’t even know I had that song.” Harry squints at Louis who’s still leaning over the phone as his fingers tap on the screen.

Louis looks pleased and leans back against the counter, having placed Harry’s phone back onto the dock. 

“I just bought their whole discography.”

“Great.” 

“You’re welcome, you gotta expand your musical tastes you know,” Louis says with curled lips and carefully picks up his toast taking a big bite. Smile still plastered on as he chews. His mouth is full, but it doesn’t stop him from continuing, “There’s enough for second helpings, right?” 

“With bacon it should be fine, yes,” Harry says, and Louis grins wide. He reaches over and smack a kiss high on his cheek.

“You’re the best, H.”

Niall appears at the door, bumping shoulders with Louis on the way in, “Morn,” spilling from his lips. “Loo’s all yours, Haz.”

Harry looks up in confusion, but Louis squeezes his shoulder before he can say anything. Right. He’s talking to Louis.

“Thanks!” Louis scampers out, his plate empty already.

Niall crowds Harry at the stove, using a fork to push the toast around in the pan. The bacon is now sizzling alongside another two slices of bread. “Sweet, is there any left for me?”

“Niall, no metal on non stick pans, you know that.”

“Right, right.” He still uses the fork to spear a piece of toast, dragging it onto a plate. “Can’t believe Harry’s got you spreading this metal propaganda, expected more from you, Lou.”

“It ruins the non-stick coating.” Harry says with a sigh. He knows it’s a lost cause, the pan’s scraped up already, but it’s the principle of the matter. 

“What’s with the--,” Niall waves his fork over his face, “--frowny face. D’you have a bad night? Or the best night ever and now you’re paying for it?”

“No.” He peeks around Niall to make sure Louis’ isn’t on his way back already. He’ll find out soon anyway, but still. Overhearing Harry explaining the matter to Niall is not the ideal scenario. He speaks in a hushed tone, “That spell thing, how do we reverse it?”

Niall chews slower and pushes his plate away. His eyebrows are arched almost all the way to his hairline, eyes darting away from Harry. He really needs to work on his poker face. “I don’t know what you’ve heard but I’m sure you’re wrong. Harry does talk a lot of rubbish when he’s smashed, you can’t mind a single word he says.”

Harry bristles at that but it’s beside the point he’s trying to make. “Listen I appreciate the noble effort in keeping this from Louis, but it’s me, Harry.”

Niall’s eyebrows jerk up impossibly higher, eyes widening. He studies Harry where he stands, as if gaging the seriousness of the matter. 

Then he laughs.

He fucking  _ laughs _ .

“Wow. That’s actually a terrible prank even for you.”

His jaw clicks as he clenches it, teeth grinding together painfully. That was to be expected. If Harry could shoot lasers out of his eyes and just murder Niall with his stare he’d do it right now. Except maybe not, because that would mean he wouldn’t be able to get help with fixing this mess. And it would involve far too little suffering. 

He keeps his voice steady as he speaks.  “If I wasn’t Harry how would I know about the spell?” 

Niall shrugs, says, “Sounds an awful lot like something Harry’d prattle on about in his sleep, innit? All romantic like.”

“I do not talk in my sleep.”

“Right, because you’re Harry, and you’re offended at the suggestion that you’d talk in your sleep. Louis, you know he does. Don’t pretend like you don’t have secret recordings of his night talks.”

“What?!” Okay, so he’ll definitely have to investigate more about this sleep talking, especially if Louis has some sort of recordings. That’s rude even by Louis’ standards. “You know what, nevermind. If I’m not Harry how do I know about that time you peed in Louis’ mom’s garden and ruined her tomato plants, and you let him take the fall because he hates tomatoes?”

Niall’s eyes and mouth go round for a second before he recovers, pushing his toast on his plate. 

“First of all-- stop talking about yourself in the third person it’s a bit much even for you, and Christ, Harry said he wouldn’t tell you, listen there was a line to the bathroom, I was properly desperate. I’m too young to die of kidney failure.” He’s winded by the time he finishes his rant, and he takes another bite of his bread. He stops chewing, his mouth hanging open as he says, “Did you do something to the toast?”

“What? No. Besides, if I was Louis wouldn’t I have gotten back at you for this ages ago?”

“Could be plotting it right now, for all I know,” Niall suggests, still warily eyeing him. 

“And abandon the plot just so I could convince you I’m Harry? What’s the point of that?” He turns off the stove and doesn’t bother getting a plate to eat his breakfast. It’s probably not helping his case. 

“Dunno, mate. Get me to tell you all his secrets?”

“I don’t have secrets from Louis.”

“Are you sure about that? Why’d you need a spell if you don’t have at least one secret?”

Harry’s face grows hot, which he prays Niall doesn’t notice. But considering he’s staring intently at him, that’s probably a lost cause. The kettle goes off, and Harry turns away to prepare the tea.

Niall pops up close to him, eyes narrowed as he studies his face. “M’not a zoo animal, Niall, please.”

He ignores Harry’s statement, gripping his shoulders and jostling him lightly. As if that would work to make Louis abandon a prank. 

“You’ve got your eyebrows all tensed up,” Niall says, suspiciously.

“Don’t talk about how it’s gonna give Louis wrinkles he’s already complained about that.”

“Holy shit…” His face brightens and he laughs again, grip tightening along Harry's’ shoulders. It’s actually starting to hurt, his blunt fingers digging into the edge of his collarbones. 

He twists his way out of Niall’s grip.

“I still actually feel what you’re doing okay, it’s not like some sort of voodoo thing where if you hurt me Louis feels it and the reverse.”

“That would be pretty sick though.”

“Niall.” 

“Okay, okay. Wow,” Niall huffs it out, breath coming out short. “This is… a bit much for me.’

“For  _ you _ ?”

“Well, you know.” He cradles his chin and scratches at his bottom lip. “It’s a bit hard for me to talk to you about this. I mean, you as Louis, since he was kind of the subject of the whole thing--”

“What? No he wasn’t.”

Niall rubs the back of his neck, grimacing. “Well, kind of, you know.”

“I did not do this to swap bodies with Louis!” It comes out whinier than he expects, voice cracking but he can't back down because honestly, when Niall told him they should perform a love spell this wasn’t what he expected. He didn’t even think it would work, and he certainly didn’t expect it to affect Louis in any way. 

“Right well no, this… physical aspect was unexpected. But this was about finding your soulmate, right, so I just figured it would give you the push you needed to jump his bones.”

“That is not what you told me!”

“Well if I told you it kind of would have ruined the plan wouldn't it’ve?”

“The plan where both of us are still ourselves? That plan?”

“Small hiccough.”

“ _ Niall _ .”

“Yes well. In my defense I didn't think this would actually work. My nan’s always going on about how that's how she found her husband but really who expects these kind of things to be true?”

“She swapped bodies with your granddad?”

“Not sure if that’s what actually happened… it’s about finding and getting to know your loved one. Maybe this messed up because the two of you are already in each other's’ pockets. So the only way you could know each other more is, well, walking in the other person’s shoes? Metaphorically speaking.” He pauses, looking at Harry but seemingly deep in thought. “Or I s’pose literally speaking.”

Harry buries his face in his hands. 

Niall taps the counter, pulling out three mugs for their tea. “Did you tell Lou yet?”

“What do you mean?”

“You have to tell him you know why this happened. This whole situation wouldn’t have happened if you could communicate properly to begin with.”

“I’m sorry, here I thought that this whole situation happened because of a meddling leprechaun.”

“Hey, don’t be cruel.” He points his fork at Harry. “I was trying to help. I’m letting that one slide because you’re not yourself. Get it?” He huffs a laugh, waiting for Harry to respond. “No?”

Harry grunts, crossing his arms over his chest. This is the absolute worst. 

Louis bounces into the kitchen, as energetic as ever. He’s changed clothes-- a pair of shorts Harry hasn’t seen in weeks and a shirt fresh from the laundry. He must have gone digging through Harry’s things. His hair is still up in a bun, wisps of curls loose around his head. 

He goes straight for the frying pan, picking up a piece of bacon, folding it into his mouth so he can chew the whole thing at once.

“Tea?” he asks, with a smile on his face and his mouth full. As if he doesn’t have a care  in the world. Harry pours water into Louis mug, watching as the water turns dark. 

“Louis.” Niall says, tipping his cup at him, already sipping his tea. 

“You told him! Harry, come on we could’ve had so much fun.” He huffs and pouts, but quickly recovers when Harry presses his mug into his hands. A quick smile graces his lips. “Explain yourself. 

“I had to tell him.”

“Why’s that, some flatmate loyalty thing or summat? I thought I was your priority here, we’re in this together.”

Harry takes a deep breath, readying himself to plunge into an explanation. He’s not even sure where to start. “Well--”

“I think I know what happened,” Niall says, saving Harry from going on a meandering talk. 

“S’not drugs, if that’s what you think,” Louis says. 

“Was not considering that option, but good to know.”

“So?” Louis asks, blowing on his tea before taking a sip and grimacing. He grabs the carton of milk on the counter, and watches as a few droplets make their way into his mug.

“Well, Harry and I may have participated in some sorcery last night.” Niall says it with a straight face, and to his credit, Louis doesn’t start laughing. The corners of his lips turn down briefly, as if in thought.

“Are you pulling my leg? I’ll know if you are.” He narrows his eyes at Niall, and then turns his gaze to Harry. “Might not be able to read you so easily right now, but I’ll still be able to tell.”

“No, s’real.”

“Sorcery. So like, a spell? A body swap spell?”

“No, nothing like that,” Harry rushes to say.

“It’s a love spell.” Niall says with no preamble, and takes a gulp of tea. Harry blinks at him in disbelief. “What? It is.”

“A love spell…for the solstice. Of course,” Louis mutters. 

“What do you mean, ‘of course’?”

“Midsummer’s for lovers, innit?”

“Ha! What did I tell ya, Harry? It’s the day of love.”

“You didn’t know that?” Louis quirks his eyebrows at him, and his mouth pulls to the side, dimple threatening to pop out. “What’d you think the play was about? And all the films?” 

“Can we stay on topic?” It comes out frustrated, but mostly he’s confused. Confused that Louis hasn’t stormed out, or punched him, or just generally asked why on earth a love spell would involve the two of them.

“So it backfired,” Louis says, and  _ oh _ . Of course that’s what he’d think. He bumps Harry’s shoulder with his closed fist, rubbing his knuckles against his bicep. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

Harry shrugs, uncertain how to process this turn of events. He can feel Niall’s stare burning into the side of his face, but he refuses to face him. He has breakfast to finish; even though his stomach seems perfectly happy stewing with acid. He probably should eat something to calm it down.

“S’brilliant, though, that means it’s probably time sensitive? Since it was triggered by the solstice maybe once it’s over we’ll go back to normal.”

“Well, Niall’s nan used it so Niall can probably ring her up and ask her how to fix it. Right Niall?”

“My nan doesn’t have a phone.” 

Both Louis and Harry stare at him. Harry might actually be speechless. He can’t believe he let himself be convinced of doing this nonsense ritual by Niall. Who doesn't even have a way to communicate the woman who gave him the spell.

“Can you repeat that?” Harry asks, eventually.

“She doesn’t have a phone. Doesn’t need one, really.” 

“So we’ll wait then, yeah, Haz?” Louis brushes against him with intent. His mouth curved down with concern. Harry forces himself to smile back and nod. He pushes another piece of toast into his mouth just so he doesn’t have to speak. 

“Seems as likely as anything else,” Niall says with an easy shrug. 

Could it really be that simple? Neither Niall or Louis seem particularly shaken or concerned. Why is he the only one having a normal response? 

Louis returns to his cup and makes a face when he drinks it. He tries to shake some more droplets of milk out of the empty carton. “You’re out of milk, you are.” He drinks the tea anyway, and steals more bacon from the pan, this time folding two pieces and stuffing them into his mouth. 

“Are we? ” Niall pauses as he holds his fork halfway up to his mouth. 

Louis goes to put the carton back into the fridge, but Harry stops him, taking it away and going to rinse it out before placing it in the recycling bin. 

“Seemed to have enough to last me for my coco pops. Since you’re eating me out of house and home, why don’t you go pick up some groceries,” Niall says, and Louis arches his eyebrows, eyes going round. He looks the perfect picture of innocence, the stray ringlet of hair at his temple really sealing the deal. 

“Am not,” he mumbles, mouth still full of bacon. He brings his last forkful of bread to his mouth, stuffing it further. Harry snorts at the visual.

Louis grumbles, “What,” tongue sneaking out of his mouth as he chews. He takes a big swallow, clearing his throat after. He pushes his plate onto the counter. “It was already served I could hardly let it go to waste.”

“I’ll write you a list,” Niall says. Louis rolls his eyes but he doesn’t protest. He passes his empty plate on to Harry. While Harry soaps up the dishes, Louis prepares another cup of tea for him, carefully tipping over a spoonful of sugar into it without even mocking him, holding it out for Harry to grab once he’s dried his hands. 

He doesn’t feel all warm inside at his kindness. Not in the least. 

“I guess a bit of fresh air wouldn’t hurt,” Louis says, and Niall pumps his fist. 

Niall’s got his hands on paper and a pen in no time, and Harry blows on his tea in silence. “What,” Louis asks him.

“I didn’t say anything,” a quick sip of his tea and he raises his chin. Not on purpose, but Louis seems suspicious.

“No, but you’re thinking something. What.”

“What if you run into someone I know?”

“I’ll tell them ‘Hello, good morning, how nice to see you’, honestly Harry I’m quite capable of human interaction. Some might say I’m even doing it right now.”

Niall snorts, says, “It’s true, I’ve seen it with me own two eyes.”

“See?”

“It’s not even morning anymore,” Harry says, and truly it’s beside the point and he knows it. And of course Louis can survive a trip to the grocery store in Harry’s body it’s just--well he’s nervous about it nonetheless, to be honest.

It’s not like Louis is liable to trip and turn his ankle, causing irreparable damage. But maybe the alone time will give him enough time to think more about the fact that Harry is to blame for this whole situation. 

“Then I’ll say ‘good afternoon,’ honestly, Haz. Are you implying I require supervision to pop down the shop?”

They stare at each other. There seems to be a glint in Louis’ eye though, and his mouth is twitching. So he’s not fully cross.

“Why don’t you go together,” Niall says, and actually winks at Harry. Jesus, why does he have to be so heavy handed. “It’s a pretty big list after all, you’ll need more hands to carry the bags.”

“Isn’t the whole perk of having Haz’s monster hands that I don’t need help carrying things anymore? The insults never end, truly.”

“So you admit it! You’re enjoying having a larger stature!”

“I admit nothing.” Louis hisses, waving the to “Now finish your tea, Harold, we’ve got to change your outfit before we pop out.”

 

-

 

“What’s wrong with my outfit?” Harry repeats for probably the fifth time. To be fair, Louis hasn’t answered him yet, so he’s allowed to repeat himself, he thinks. 

Louis rushed them out the kitchen and up to Harry’s room as soon as they finished their tea. Louis had complained with each sip, but refused to let it go to waste. 

“You can’t go out dressed like that,” Louis says, at last, and Harry looks down at what he’s wearing. 

He’d pulled on the clothes Louis had been wearing yesterday. Loose jean shorts and black vest that showed off a bit of his ribs. If he leaned down, the armholes were big enough to flash a bit of chest and belly. Not that Harry had been staring at him, or anything. 

“You wore this yesterday.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “ _ Exactly _ .”

“S’not dirty.” He gathers the fabric of the vest and pulls it to his face, taking a sniff. “It doesn’t smell, there’s no mystery stains.”

“Honestly, Harry don’t be gross.”

“I don’t see what the problem is, you just dug up some random clothes from my closet.”

“That’s because I have a fashion sense. Also, it doesn’t matter what you wear you always look good.”

“Really?” It comes out a bit more pleased than he expects. Louis shoots him a look as if he can’t believe him. 

“Yes really, I don’t keep spare clothes at your place for you to disrespect me like this. Those are clearly going out clothes, not weekend clothes.”

Louis kneels on the floor, opening the bottom drawer of his dresser. It’s what Harry’s come to think of as his Louis’ drawer, where all the things he’s left at the flat ends up, so it doesn’t get mixed up with his or Niall’s things. It’s a random assortment of knick knacks, snacks, some CDs and DVDs, a pack of cigarettes and a heap of clothes. 

“I thought you forgot those here.” 

“Forgot, left them here on purpose, same difference really.”

Louis carefully rifles through the contents of the drawer, and Harry watches as his fingers pick at each item. It makes sense, now that he thinks about it… Louis has never asked for any of the items in the drawer. In fact, he’s pretty sure the cigarette pack has been replaced twice. And there’s a bag of gummy bears that Louis has been pulling out every time he’s been by lately, only to put it back before leaving. Huh. 

“Wait, I didn’t mean the fashion thing, you think I look good in anything?”

Louis levels him with an incredulous stare. “Yes, Harold. In fact, I can’t wait for the onslaught of come ons I’ll have to bat off as soon as we step outside. I fully expect you to protect my virtue. Your virtue. Whatever.”

“Is that why you took so long to get changed this morning, busy admiring the goods?” Harry teases, but there’s a hint of seriousness there. A pinch in his stomach at Louis looking at him, himself, and being interested.

Louis snorts. “Please, as if I need to be in your body to do that.”

“Louis.” He gasps.

“What,” he says, flatly. “You’re hardly a prude, Haz, wandering about in your pants every chance you get. Here,” he says, and pushes a few items of clothing into his grasp.

Harry unfolds the clothes, and makes to take off the vest. Louis is still studying him seriously. 

“And your hair needs to be fixed. You really messed it up this morning.”

Harry doesn’t bother asking what he means, as Louis fixes him with a stern look. He goes hunting for hair supplies as Harry changes into the outfit Louis has deemed acceptable.

A jean jacket, skinnies, and a Cheap Monday shirt. How had he not noticed that Louis basically stored a second wardrobe at his house? He takes a second to riffle through the drawer, fingers touching on a couple pair of pants, some socks and a number of other shirts. There’s even a small flatiron. How did he think these were all things that Louis just forgot here?

Harry’s still holding on to the flatiron when Louis returns.

“We won’t need that,” he says, putting it back in the drawer with no fuss. “Think we can make do with some of Niall’s wax.”

He’s tapping his fingers against the jar in his hand, eyes raking over Harry’s face. Or well, his hair. 

“Okay, sit,” he says, patting on the edge of the bed. 

“Shouldn’t we be in the bathroom?”

“Why?” He’s right in front of him, blinking innocently. Harry blinks back, and Louis is essentially a reflection of him in that moment. He can’t breathe for a second, the world tilting on its axis. It’s like looking in a mirror except it really isn’t. He hasn’t had a chance to really process this all morning, not had a chance to really look at Louis. What if there’s really two of him and he’s just face to face with his doppelganger right now?

The spell breaks when Louis brings his hand up to his face, sweeping his fingers across his forehead, as if to sweep away non-existent fringe. Harry exhales in relief. No, it’s definitely Louis. It doesn’t even matter that he looks like Harry right now. He’s just himself. 

Louis wrinkles his nose and his knuckles graze the front of Harry’s shoulder. 

“Hey, y’alright, Haz,” Louis asks, voice soft and concerned. Even his inflection is his own. He must have gotten proper scared by Harry’s mini freak out. 

“Yeah, it just hit me, y’know.”

Louis lights up at that, a tentative smile gracing his face. “Pretty sick right? How many people get to say they literally swapped places with their best mate?”

“Dunno.” Harry shrugs. Louis’ smile widens, slow and sincere. It hits him right in the chest, and Harry wants to cup his face and feel him breathing. He wants to get closer, like always, and it’s just dumb, isn’t it? It doesn’t even matter that they’ve swapped places, Harry still bloody wants him. He shakes his head, trying to discard his thoughts. “Alright, let’s get on with it. Work your hair magic.”

Louis doesn’t waste any time wetting his hands in the cup he’d brought with and brushes them through Harry’s hair, trying to style it into an acceptable side fringe.  Harry seems to melt into it.

“You messed it up earlier with your fingers, you can’t do that full hand hair sweep right now. Just. Light touches if you have to,” Louis speaks softly as he leans over him.

If Harry closes his eyes it’s almost like everything is normal. Louis fingers softly brushing along his scalp and the nape of his neck, but he doesn’t want to stop watching Louis. Louis with this look of concentration, teeth denting his lower lip as he busies himself with Harry’s hair. 

“Damn, I look good.” He’s smirking helplessly, fingers gentle against Harry’s jaw as he prompts him to turn his head. “This is so much better than using two mirrors.”

Harry pokes Louis in the ribs. Louis quickly catches his hand in his, squeezing his fingers. “Self obsessed, much?”

“Please, as if I haven’t seen you creepy staring at me all morning.”

“I have not!” Has he? He certainly didn’t mean to. 

“I didn’t even know my face could do that, but apparently all it needed was the Styles temperament.”

Harry ducks his head. He’s seen Louis blush, and it’s always quite obvious. He’s pretty sure he’s doing it right now.

“One more thing…” Louis trails off, and licks his thumb before carefully brushing it against Harry’s eyebrows, a serious look on his face as he adjusts the fine hairs just so. 

Harry goes cross-eyes trying to pay attention to Louis this close up. Would it be weird to just… lean in and kiss him? He can’t say he’s ever thought about what it would be like to kiss himself before, but if it’s kissing himself while Louis is at the wheel… well. 

“All good.” Louis perky tone snaps him out of his train of thought, the pads of his fingers still resting traitorously along Harry’s temple. As if that was perfectly normal. And it kind of is, isn’t it? It’s unsettling how many occasions like this Harry can recall. Not the specifics, of course, but just the two of them, teasing and close. The small comfort of fingers grazing against clavicles and pressing against ribs. 

Why haven’t they ever done more? It just doesn’t make sense. It never did, really, especially not considering how much time Harry’s spent thinking about it. And it makes even less sense now.

“Right,” he clears his throat, rubbing his hands against his thighs. 

“What are you thinking, Harry?” 

He shakes his head, furiously trying to will away the thought of pulling Louis into his lap. Heat spreads throughout his face, probably betraying him. “It’s stupid.”

Louis’ hands drop to his shoulders and he squeezes lightly. “Haz, we’re in this together okay? Can’t be keeping things from me. Besides, nothing that comes out of that mouth could be stupid.” He sounds concerned, but he flashes a small grin at Harry, nonetheless, always reassuring. 

“Would it be weird if I said I wanted to kiss you?” He can’t control his voice, and while he aimed for casual, he’s pretty sure it sounds more strangled than intended. The words having to pass by his heart lodged in his throat.

“I mean… we’re basically the definition of weird, at the mo’.”

“Right. I just-- If you’re right and this is only s’posed to last for a day then this is like, the only chance we’ll ever have to snog ourselves?” His voice cracks, and he makes a face at that realizing how dumb it sounds. 

Louis lifts one of his shoulders, mouth slanted. “You do have a point. When else will I ever have the opportunity to snog someone as handsome as myself?”

“Wow,” Harry says, and he can’t stop the laugh that bursts out of him, tension evaporating from his chest. This is just Louis, he doesn’t have anything to be worried about. 

“Please, as if you aren't thinking the exact same thing.” Louis is indignant, raising his eyebrows and wrinkling his nose as he grins.

“Am not!” He still feels light, even with Louis so close to him, the weight of his arms heavy around his shoulders. “ I’ll have you know I’ve regularly snogged my hand.”

“Harold. I can’t believe you just admitted that.”

“S’not like you can tell anyone.” 

“I most certainly can and will tell everyone that’ll listen.”

“S’not like anyone will believe you anyway.”

“Quite certain everyone would believe that.” 

He’s probably right, actually. But Louis wouldn’t tell anyone. He might like to tease Harry when it’s just them, and the boys, but he’d never use anything he’s said against him. 

“Which hand?” Louis asks. Harry taps his right hand, turning over to the palm. Louis lifts it to his face, inspecting it carefully.

“S’pose I can see the appeal.” He says, and Harry fully expects him to start sucking at the skin. His eyes are glistening and his lips are shiny, parted slightly. He doesn’t, though. 

Louis sighs dramatically and practically leaps onto the bed, landing on his bum and bouncing. He lifts his hand and rests the back of it against his forehead. “Besides, who will have me now aside from you?”

"You mean for the next ten hours?" 

“You say that like it isn't an eternity.” Louis huffs, but he’s smiling. He looks so at ease and unconcerned on Harry’s bed, and Harry’s not quite sure what’s expected of him. Louis hasn’t shot him down, exactly, but he hasn’t made an explicit move either. This isn’t exactly a case where Harry wants to wade through the greyscale.

Louis must catch on to him being stuck in his head, says, “Well?”

“Was just a thought, you know. If you were up for it.”

“Haz, we only have ten hours, a boy can only be so patient.”

“Yeah?” Harry can’t help the smile that spreads over his face, spirits lifted. 

“Yeah, you oaf,” Louis says, twisting on the bed so he can grab at Harry’s wrists, pulling him closer.

“You’re the oaf now, aren’t you?” He tries to make his point by letting Louis drag him onto the bed, and he knees onto it before letting himself topple down. 

“Excuse you, oaf is a state of mind. I am as graceful as Zidane. Pelé on a good day.” 

“Mhm, sure.” Harry rolls his eyes, but considering Louis’ answering smile it probably comes off as affectionate rather than dismissive. Well, Harry can’t win them all. 

Louis hands are large and firm around Harry’s biceps, pulling him closer. They’re on their sides, facing each other, legs dangling over the side of the bed. 

Harry takes the hint, and nudges his nose against Louis. It’s kind of freaky, up close, but when he closes his eyes all he hears is their breathing, and well. It’s just them. Louis breath is as rhythmic as ever, his thumb making the same pattern against his skin as he always does.

He thinks he’s expected to make the first move, so when he feels Louis’ lips pressing against his he’s surprised, but not unpleasantly so. He responds easily, and their mouths glide together smoothly, sending shivers over Harry’s skin. He opens his mouth, slipping his tongue out to run along the seam of Louis’ mouth before gently biting his lower lip. Louis whimpers under him and the sound anchors to his spine. He needs to hear it again.

He pulls back to catch his breath. “Okay?” Louis asks, and he’s so close that even as he speaks his lips graze against Harry’s.

Harry nods fervently, but Louis can’t hear him, so he makes up for it by pushing against Louis, lying half on top of him. His voice is hoarse when he answers, “Yeah.”

“So why’d you stop?” Louis teases, blinking lazily up at him. He’s arching up against him, flushing their bodies impossibly closer together. 

Harry presses a small kiss to the corner of his mouth, and then latches on to his lower lip, sucking at it until a low moan escapes from Louis’ mouth. A sense of satisfaction unfurls in his chest, and he doesn’t let up, can’t get enough of Louis’ pleading mouth under his.

They could spend the rest of the day doing this and Harry would be perfectly content. Louis’ hands cups the back of Harry’s neck, fingers gently playing with his hair, and it’s all Harry can do not to whimper into Louis’ mouth.

Their tongues meet, sliding wetly against each other. The only sound in the room is that of their breathing and the wet sucks as their lips part and meet again. Harry’s entire face is tingling with want, heating him up from the outside in, and the sensation prickles down all the way through to his fingertips as they cradle Louis’ face.

“I’d say that was a successful experiment,” Louis says when they pull apart. 

Harry licks his lips, staring at how swollen and red Louis’ lips are. Right. An experiment. Louis’ still gripping his arm loosely as he lifts himself off of him, feet landing onto the floor with a thud.

“Did we mess up my hair?”

“Nah, s’good.” Louis blinks up at him, eyes darting over Harry’s face. He doesn’t seem to have any intention to move from the bed. “Makes you look unavailable.” 

He smirks at Harry, and he inhales sharply. He wants to look unavailable. But he can’t quite say that yet, can he?

He gets off the bed, smoothing down his shirt, and pulling at his lapels. “Come on, we’ll be late.” 

“Late for groceries? Likely story, that.” Louis huffs, but shuffles up anyway, grabbing onto Harry’s hips with both hands. As if he needs the steadying grip. Harry lets him have his way, enjoying the sight of his hair all ruffled and Louis seemingly not giving a care.

 

-  
  


 

Normally Louis likes to bring Harry to Tesco as a distraction from a boring chore. This time, Louis would quite like to be distracted from Harry. His mouth is still zinging from their snog, the warm air tickling his swollen lips. He keeps licking them, hoping it’s not too obvious to Harry.  

Harry’d clammed up so fast, Louis almost got whiplash. He’ll have to tease him out of his shell again, but in the meantime he doesn’t want to freak him out.

He spends the walk over there purposefully bumping his hip against Harry, and brushing along his back, leading him into the cool air conditioned store. He’s pretty sure the skin on his arms is prickled, hair raised and aware of Harry still so close to him.

He grabs a basket as soon as they step in, the cool air only agitating him further. He pushes the cart into Harry’s arms. 

“Oh, so I’m still on basket duty?” He actually looks surprised, eyebrows raised. Louis has no idea why, he really should know better than to expect special treatment. He pushes the basket against Louis’ hip, the plastic hard as it bites into his skin. Harry doesn’t actually try to pawn it off, fingers looping through the arms. 

“Can’t deprive you of that pleasure, can I? Might get disoriented if we mess with the status quo too much.” 

It’s not that Harry carries the basket normally; no, they usually skip it altogether. Instead, Louis uses Harry’s arms as a basket, passing items to him until he has all them all in an embrace. Arms full enough that he has to ask Louis to get the things he wants. And Louis hems and haws about whether Harry actually needs wheat tortillas when corn is more authentic. And whether the orange ice lollies are a worthy investment when the lemon ones are clearly superior. 

It’s a good time. 

“That’s such shit, I don’t even like carrying everything.”  Louis rolls his eyes, that a total lie. If he didn’t like it he would’ve said something.

“Shoulda said summat sooner, s’a little late for that now.”

“I thought you said the weight of a full basket strained your elbow and that’s why you needed me to carry things. Basket elbow, you said that was a thing.” He follows Louis into the produce section. 

“I guess we’ll just have to not fill it to the brim then,” Louis says and drops in a package of tomatoes into the basket. 

He doesn’t look behind him as he walks on, expecting Harry to follow. Milk is next, and butter, and eggs and bacon. It’s almost like Niall’s asking them to restock the entire kitchen. Which is probably what he did, the clever devil.

Harry reorganizes the contents of their basket after each addition. He’s not straying far, but he’s adding a few things of his own. Probably enjoying that he can actually use his hands.

Harry’s rearranging their cart, moving a package of frozen pizzas in the when he frowns, picking up a small tin of butter. 

“That’s not on the list.” 

Louis looks over to to the tin, and resumes his browsing. “Yes, it is.”

“What would Niall need horseradish butter?”

“Didn’t ask, did I? Just followed direction like a proper little helper.” He takes the butter from Harry and drops it back in the basket. “You’ll make it melt before we even leave the store if you hold it.”

“Louis, we don't’ need the butter, we should put it back.”

“It’s on the list,” Louis says, emphasizing each word by dropping biscuit boxes into the cart. “Didn’t realize you’d been sent along to sabotage this mission.”

“You memorized the list?”

“Of course not, m’not a genius am I? I brought it with me.”

“Did you?” Harry actually sounds surprised which is unacceptable. He turns to face him, brows furrowed.

“Yes, Harold, there was no point in Nialler making a list if I wasn’t going to bring it, is there?”

Harry’s mouth is a thin line, still disbelieving, His free hand extended palm up. Well, if he expects Louis not to deliver he’s wrong. He unfolds the paper that he’d been squeezing inside his fist. 

Harry peruses it, confused expression deepening as he reads off the items listed. It’s expected; Niall did list some odd things. 

“You okay there, Haz?”

He hands it back, reluctantly, says, “Okay, but the prawn crackers aren’t on the list.”

“No, that’s for me. For the walk home. I was gonna share but you’ll have to do without, for doubting me.”

“We’ve never used half of these things.” 

“Probably a test, innit? That Nialler doesn’t trust me to follow instructions.”

“He wouldn’t be wrong.”

“S’cuse me, Haz, what was that? Who has brought you on more adventures you could possibly count with very detailed itineraries for success?”

“That’s not following instructions, that’s making them.”

Well. He isn’t wrong. Louis drops the subject, circling back to the sweets aisle. He’s running out of gummy bears at Harry’s and could use a refill.

They make it through self-check out easily, Harry carefully loading their bags as if competing in grocery tetris. Louis watches him patiently because he clearly enjoys this, but it’s somewhat pointless.

“We’re only going to walk for five minutes or summat, it’s fine.” He gathers the bags and carries the two of heavier ones. It’s only fair, really. Besides, he enjoys being in charge of the bag with the snacks. 

Harry doesn’t say anything but seems pleased, happy to grab the bag with the wine and biscuits. Louis starts to usher him through the exit when he notices someone who looks suspiciously similar to Nick approaching the store. 

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath. He never did answer the rash of worried texts he’d woken up to. Nick’s probably proper cross with him. 

He squints, and oh, yeah, it’s definitely Nick, the hem of his loose shirt flapping in the breeze, his hair impeccably styled as always. And yeah, he definitely looks cross.

Louis’ mouth tightens, he tries to paw at Harry’s back with his fist to get him to turn around and go back into the store with him. They could backtrack in from the checkout area. His fists are useless, the bags bouncing against the back of Harry’s thighs, only spurring Harry on to take longer steps. He resorts to an elbow, trying to steer Harry back inside. 

“What are you doing?” Harry seems curious, which is not good enough. He’ll have to explain later. Nick has a stupidly long stride and he’ll be at the store in no time. 

“We forgot something,” he grits through his teeth. Harry blinks patiently as if he’s waiting for more of an explanation. They don’t have time for that. Louis could make a run for it, dash past the queue and leave Harry to deal with Nick alone. But that would really mess things up. 

“We checked the list, we’ve got everything,” Harry says sounding almost doubtful. Louis’ pleading look must be working its magic. 

“Harry please, just trust me.” He tries to convey the urgency with his eyes, widening them and nodding his head in a way that he hopes comes off as significant. Normally it would work, but normally Louis would be using his own face to portray the importance that they should leave.

“Why are you doing that?” Harry asks. Of course.

Louis’ eyes dart over Harry’s shoulder and-- yeah, naturally, Nick has spotted them. He’s two long paces away from joining them and he looks angry. 

“If it isn’t the bickering couple,” Nick says. “Blocking the exit as per usual.”

“Hey Nick, you’re right we should probably move,” Harry says, and coughs, turning to Louis, “we should move,  _ Harry _ .” 

Louis smiles widely, trying to avoid pinching Harry for being so bloody obvious and follows along. 

He’s gone and cocked it all up now. If he can’t communicate with Harry through his facial expressions anymore there’s no way they’ll get through this unscathed. 

“You don’t come to this Tesco often, do you?” Louis says, hoping it comes off as a normal conversation topic and not a crap pick up line. Nick squints at him suspiciously.

“S’quite out of my way, yeah. I came for the Tommo special.”

“Sorry?” Louis says, unable to help himself. Nick doesn’t seem to be bothered by his response. He’s staring at Harry, who he thinks is Louis and yeah. They’re proper screwed.

“Yes, I heard you were still standing but I had to see it for myself to believe it. I would have thought after that delightful text message the only way I’d see you was hooked up to an IV. Possibly comatose. What other reason could there possibly be for you to accuse me of sharing a spliffs and then ignoring all my texts? To think I was actually concerned for a bit there.”

“Sorry, what?” Harry blanks under Nick’s scrutiny. Louis’ has had a lot of practice, and he reckons even he’d fold under the stare Nick is leveling at Harry. 

“No explanations, then? No details I unfortunately misinterpreted? No one to throw to the wolves?”

Nick is staring intently at Harry, and Harry’s well, he’s looking back, but it’s also bloody obvious he has no idea what to say. The corner of his eye is twitching, like he’s dying to look at Louis and ask him to help, but he knows it’d be a fool's errand to look his way.

“I had his phone. Prank gone too far, you know how it is.” Louis blurts out, right, that’ll work. “I’d show ya but you know,” he raises his fists, “my hands are a bit occupied at the mo’.”

Nick’s head tips to the side, and he studies Louis carefully. He’s not buying it. “Are you saying you sent the texts?”

“You know how it goes.” Louis tries to smile innocently. Harry does it all the time, certainly this is something he can do with his face. He’s not sure if he succeeds, Harry staring at him with his eyes widened. Louis is pretty sure that look means  _ what the fuck are you doing _ , but since Harry couldn’t decipher his face communication he can’t really be sure he’s reading him right either.. 

Nick huffs a laugh, completely unamused. “Well, I would have expected that from Louis, this is interesting. Looks like you’ve started rubbing off on each other in more ways than one.”

Harry chokes on air, sputtering a failed laugh. Louis elbows him in the chest, probably a bit too hard.

“Are you having a laugh?” Nick’s voice has gone cold and this is, well, it’s really not good.

“I’m sure we don’t know what you’re talking about.” Louis tries to smile innocently. Harry remains quiet. It’s so obvious that they’re not themselves.

This is it. This is the moment Nick is going to call them out and they’ll have to explain and then-- then what? He’ll have them committed probably Can he do that? 

Nick eyes them both suspiciously. “Well this was fun for all involved, wasn’t it? I’ll leave you to get sorted.” 

He leaves with one last cutting glance, his heels clicking against the pavement as he walks off. 

“What was that?” Harry’s sounds wound up. Louis can’t really blame him, for once. 

Louis shifts under Harry’s gaze, somehow shrinking even now. “Just Nick being Nick.”

“No, Lou, this was different.” Louis pulls away as quickly as he’d ducked in, and Harry has to pull him back. “Louis, please explain.”

He’s not quite sure how to put it. Harry doesn’t stop staring at him, leveling him with an expectant look. He’s pretty sure he’s fishmouthing a bit, trying to find the right words. “I may have, possibly, implied that the weed he brought last night was laced with something.”   
Harry blinks, lower lip rolling into his mouth. “Why?”

“Woke up in your body didn’t I? What else was I supposed to assume?”

Harry sighs, a question flashing over his face. “So now he thinks I sent him that text?”

Louis digs his nail into the palm of his hand. The handle of the plastic bags biting into his skin. He probably deserves is. He clears his throat. “And uh, also didn’t answer when he asked if I was okay?” 

Harry looks proper devastated. “Louis.”

Louis shrugs. Yeah. He probably could have handled that better. “S’not like I expected to see him now, I was gonna talk to him later. Clear things up a bit.”

“He was worried about you. He was having an emotional reaction and you just--” He stops himself short. “Oh my god, I was so dismissive.”

“Well it’s not like you knew.”

“No, Lou, he was really worried about you. I have to go apologize.”

“Haz, it’s fine he’ll get over it--” It’s a moot point, Harry’s not listening, and Louis’ hands are occupied so he can’t grab on to him. Harry jogs after Nick in the distance and something hard and ugly settles into Louis’ belly. 

Harry’s totally right, is the thing.

It’s not that Louis doesn’t feel bad about making Nick worry-- he does, kind of. But Harry was his priority that morning. He couldn’t very well have taken a break in explaining that they’d be fine just so he could answer Nick’s texts. That would’ve been horrid. And so dismissive. 

Then again, it’s basically what he’d done to Nick. It’s not like he didn’t have a spare minute when Harry was making breakfast, it’s just. Well, it’s just he didn’t want to have to worry about anyone else, really. 

Besides, Nick’d gone off the map himself in the past, it’s not like this was uncharted territory. He’d asked to be taken to hospital, once, after he and Louis tried eating the spiciest sausages in London. As soon as he’d finished his sausage he declared that his insides were on fire and that he was going through massive organ failure. So Louis drove him, and Nick left him waiting in A&E for a solid couple of hours. Only to call him from the pub asking where he was.

That’s basically the same thing, this time around it just involved a bit more waiting. Nick really was taking things too seriously.

Except he wasn’t, really. Nick had every right to be cross. And Harry was right that he deserved an apology. But the thing is… well the thing is Louis wouldn’t change anything, even if he could. He doesn't feel bad for putting Harry first. Making sure he could laugh at the absurdity of the situation instead of burying his head in his pillows and catastrophizing. He’s pleased he could distract him with breakfast, and shopping, and well--snogging. That wasn’t so bad either. Far better than he expected, really. Even though the circumstances were less than ideal. 

He watches Harry walk back, leading with his chest and his free hand moving to touch loose curls that aren’t around his neck. He recovers by tugging at the lapel of his jacket. 

It does something to Louis, seeing him like this. He’s still so Harry, it burns in his chest. He wants to pull Harry in close and kiss him again, tongue meeting his and nose digging into his cheek. He wants to bite his earlobe and massage the nape of his neck-- 

He should stop thinking about this. At least in public.

“You’re hurting my reputation, you know,” Louis says, trying to keep his voice light, not to belie the hurtling  emotions brewing just below his skin. 

Harry flashes him a smile, teeth bright and tongue sliding over his lower lip. “More like securing my future reputation if we’re stuck like this.”

Harry uses his free hand to trail his fingers across Louis’ lower back. Almost hitching up the shirt, but not quite. It still feels like his fingertips are leaving a hot trail in their wake.

 

-

 

“The pasties should be in the fridge,” Niall says, and Louis pointedly stares him in the eye as he opens the freezer and stuffs the box under the frozen pizza, warping the carton in the process. Niall concedes, “Or the freezer works too, s’pose.”

If Louis is responsible for picking up the groceries, he gets to decide where they go. That’s just common sense. 

Niall picks up the opened bag of prawn crackers, picking out a handful as he peruses the rest of the purchases. He hums his approval with his mouth full, probably mentally checking off all the items that he’d written down that he thought Louis would ignore. Jokes on him. Now he has to figure out what to make with dried yellow peas and chickpea flour. 

“D’you put away the wine already?” Niall fists the empty bags, tossing them under the sink.

“No.”

“Did you forget it? M’surprised. That was one of the easy ones,” Niall says

“Harry gave it away.”

Niall’s mouth drops open, half chewed crackers on his tongue as he speaks, “What now?” 

“Ran into Nick at the shop.”

Niall’s mouth goes round, and he nods. “That’s nice.”

“Mhm, so Harry decided to give him the wine because he was in quite a mood. Expected to see us, pretty sure. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“He might have rung me up, just, to inquire about your wellbeing.”

“Oh, did he now?” Louis doesn’t even try to pretend to be surprised, snatching the bag from Niall’s hands.

“Might have told him you were well enough to pop down to Tesco.”

“How considerate.” Louis pours the crumbs straight into his mouth. He doesn’t bother swallowing before continuing, “Don’t seem to upset about the wine, do you.”

“Nah, that was more of an… in case type of purchase.”

“Emergency wine.”

“Right.”

“Worked great as an emergency apology gift, so. Props. Good thing you’ve got emergency beer also, because I do believe I could use some,” Louis reaches into the fridge as he speaks, twisting the bottle open and tipping it in Niall’s direction.

“That’s fair,” he says. He doesn’t sound convincing at all, but that’s not really Louis’ problem. He grabs an extra bottle for Harry, and waves him off. 

 

-

 

“I’m tired. Being you is exhausting.” Louis stretches his legs out over the sofa, before pushing his heels against Harry's inner thighs. He’s sitting against the armrest, spread horizontally. Harry’s sat right in the middle as always, which must be a sacrifice, Louis realizes. Getting to spread out over the sofa is so much more comfortable, especially at Harry’s height. Harry’d probably love to be able to wriggle all over the cushions, using one armrest as a pillow and the other as a leg prop. Yet he always sits in the middle, letting Louis prop his feet on his thighs.

Harry laughs at that, hands clasping around his ankles, squeezing tightly. “I’m sorry?”

“Being all polite and nice. It’s very tiring.” He wriggles his toes, and Harry follows the hint and pulls at his socks, tugging them off and folding them in on each other. 

“When did you act polite.” He doesn’t even change his inflection, eyebrows raised in question. 

He kind of has a point, but that’s not really something Louis is going to admit freely. He picks up his beer from the floor, swallowing down the dregs while maintaining eye contact with Harry. He doesn’t look away, fingers tightening around Louis’ ankles. 

It’s a bit intense, and Louis has to look away first, before he just loses all control of his muscles and melts into a puddle of limbs for Harry to with as he wishes. 

“You know what we should do?” 

“No,” Harry says with no hesitation, voice firm. Honestly, it’s like Harry thinks the worst of him.

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“We’re not calling our mums.” 

“Didn’t say that’s what I wanted to do!”

“Thought it, though,” Harry pinches Louis’ calf, and and Louis kicks out reflexively. Harry grips him tighter and he slips deeper onto the couch.

“You can’t prove anything,” Louis tries to sound indignant but Harry’s holding back a smile, eyes crinkling and fuck. He definitely wants to suggest they do something else. He licks his lips.

“S’probably just as well, can’t come up with a pun to save me life, your mum would see through me right away.”

“Heeey,” Harry drawls, and Louis shrugs in response. 

“You know it’s true.”

Harry’s hands brush up his legs, and they’re pressed up against the back of Louis’ knees and Louis squirms on reflex, thrashing his legs until Harry lets go. “You’re tickling me! That’s just not right.”

“What?” Harry looks legitimately confused. “Behind your knees?”

“Duh.” Louis rolls his eyes, honestly. It’s like Harry doesn’t even know his own ticklish spots.

“But I’m not ticklish there.” 

They blink at each other. That’s odd. Louis shifts on the couch, moving to kneel next to Harry. It’s just an experiment, completely innocent. 

He knows his worst tickling spot is his ribs, just below his underarms. He reaches out to flit his fingers against the spot. Harry watches him curiously but doesn’t say anything, doesn’t react at all, other than seeming to hold his breath.

“Nothing?” Louis asks, just to confirm. 

Harry shakes his head, biting down on his lower lip. 

“Huh.” Louis makes to move away but Harry grabs his hand, pressing it firmly against his ribs.

“You don’t have to stop.” His gaze flits down, cheeks flushing. 

Louis presses his palm firmly against Harry, feeling the dents of his ribs through the shirt. He smoothes his hand down his flank and Harry’s breath seems to catch.

“Did you,” Louis says and swallows, thickly. He shuffles a bit closer, hooking one of his legs over Harry’s, straddling his thigh. It’s a bit odd, looking down at him like this. Not just because he’s looking at himself, but also because he’s never really seen Harry this shy. He’s not meeting his eye, but he’s gone almost lax under Louis.

“What?” Harry asks at last, as if he just caught up to Louis’ aborted question. 

Louis would like to push his hand over Harry’s chest, to see if he can feel his heart beating. He wants a lot more than that, actually. But asking for it might be too much. 

“Did you like, check to see if everything else feels the same?” He drops his hand to Harry’s hip, squeezing at the spot just above the hem of his pants. Harry’s skin is hot to the touch, and Louis thinks he can feel him tremble. 

Harry swallows, throat bobbing and he looks at him now, shaking his head. “No, I-- didn't want to like. Be invasive or whatever?” 

“Right, I mean, we can if you want? I don’t like, mind, or anything.”

They’re close enough that Harry’s breath comes out hot, ghosting over Louis’ skin. Harry licks his lips, and Louis can’t quite tell if it’s just an instinctive move or if he’s trying to get to Louis. If he is, it’s working. 

All Louis really wants right now is to move his hand to the front of Harry’s jeans and feel if he’s hard. Because Louis is getting there. 

“Yeah.” Louis isn’t sure he’s heard Harry right, as it comes out as soft as an exhale. Harry clears his throat. He bites down on his top lip. “Like if you want?”

He seems to hesitate again, and Louis can’t have that, taking the opportunity to lean in and kiss Harry. It’s hot and soft, and just fucking perfect. If anything it just makes this seem like the best idea of all time. 

“Yeah,” Louis breathes out easily. “Yeah, I want.”

 

-

 

“How do you want to do this?” Louis asks, closing Harry’s bedroom door behind him. Harry’s already kneed onto the bed, turning around at Louis’ question. 

He shrugs, shifting farther up on the bed. His skinnies are already unbuttoned, the fly open. Louis’ eyes flit to the bulge almost spilling out. When did he have time to do that? 

“Haz, come on.”

“Kissing is nice.” He says, and Louis follows onto the bed. He unzips his shorts, doesn’t hesitate in pulling them off completely.

“Yeah.” He’s palming his crotch already and Harry’s watching him with dark hooded eyes. He’s mirroring Louis’ motions, only he pushes his hand inside his pants. His eyes flutter shut as he squeezes himself.

Louis can’t wait anymore, moves closer so he can cup Harry’s face and press a kiss against his lips. He means for it to be gentle but as soon as their lips meet he doesn’t want to let go. He inhales sharply through his nose, and sucks at Harry’s lips until his tongue presses against his mouth. 

The pleasure zips through his spine, and he’s so turned on. He does his best to push his pants down his legs, kicking them off the bed as he tangles his legs with Harry’s. He’s jerking himself in earnest now, and he can feel Harry doing the same, their elbows knocking together on occasion.

Louis pulls away reluctantly, and Harry whines at the loss. “I wanna watch,” he says, breathless.

Harry nods. He looks a mess, shirt rucked up and cock stiff and sticking out of his pants. Louis takes off his shirt, now fully naked, and Harry blinks into himself. Probably realizing he’s still fully dressed.

He struggles to get out of his clothes, eyes darting between Louis’ face and his cock. Louis keeps stroking himself as Harry tries to twist out of his skinnies and pants.

“You’ve got lube?” Louis asks, although he knows the answer is yes. He knows where it is, even, but it’s pretty rude to just go to it. Harry nods, and turns against the nightstand, digging into one of the drawers and tossing a bottle Louis’ way.

Louis pours some out into his palm and grips his cock again. His hand making a slick sound as it moves. Harry swallows.

“Take off your shirt,” Louis says, and Harry obliges.

“Can I have some?” He asks, and Louis pours a bit of lube into Harry’s hand. He smears it properly over himself before gripping the base of his cock. It’s not the way Louis touches himself, but it seems to work. Harry's face twisted with pleasure.

Louis feels too far away, he wants to taste him again, touch him again. 

“Can I?” Louis asks and Harry’s gaze moves from where it was locked on Louis’ hand fisting his cock up to his face. He blinks slowly. “Can I touch you?”

He’s barely finished asking before Harry’s scrambled closer, pushing Louis against the headboard and crawling into his lap.

“Yeah,” he exhales, and doesn’t hesitate before wrapping his hand around Louis’s cock, squeezing tightly.

It’s almost too much and Louis’ hips jerk involuntarily into Harry’s fist. Harry seems to like that, moving his hand slowly up to the head of his cock and pressing his thumb against the slit before circling down, gentle pressure just under the head. It’s almost too much. If Harry wasn’t weighing him down, Louis’ legs would be spasming against the sheets. 

Harry moves his hand slowly and Louis does the same to Harry. He wraps his hand tightly around him, pulling slowly and varying pressure against the sensitive skin. It should be familiar. It should be weird. But Harry’s grinding against him, trying to meet each stroke and fuck if Louis can think about anything other than  _ more, please _ . 

More of Harry’s tongue against his throat, more of his sweat beading at the top of his lip. More groans, more of Harry’s hands on him. 

Harry’s hips stutter, and Louis tries to repeat the stroke, squeezing at the base. Louis wants to learn all those spots. Wants a map, a whole dictionary of where to touch Harry so he’ll whimper and gasp into his mouth. 

“Fuck, Lou,” Harry says, voice throaty and raw. He looks up at Louis with a dazed expression. Louis can’t help it, he has to kiss him again, his mouth fitting so perfectly against his. How have they gone so long without this? How have they both been so patient?

“Feel so good, but--” he starts, and carefully moves Harry’s hand. He lines up both of their cocks and wraps his hand around both. “This is better.”

Harry hisses in response, head thrown back exposing his throat. It’s right there, so Louis latches on, just above his collarbone and sucking wetly. 

His hand is still slick with lube and he has to force himself to take it slow, fist clicking as he strokes them both. 

“‘M close,” Harry groans when Louis’ thumb brushes around his foreskin. The head of his cock is red and shiny, drops of precome trickling from the slit. It makes Louis’ breath catch, and Harry’s hips stutter, as if he’s trying to stay still. Yeah. He’s definitely close.

“Do you want to come?” Louis swallows, because god, he does want to do more than just this and maybe that’s fucked up but also how can he not? Harry’s panting beautifully in front of him, and there’s sweat beading along his hairline and his throat. The hair that Louis worked so hard on adjusting  _ just so _ hours ago is now matted and messed up. He looks completely fucked out already and they’ve only gotten started. 

Harry shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut. He moves in Louis’ lap, shifting so his arse rests over Louis’ still stupidly hard cock. He’s pretty sure he’s never been this hard in his life, and it has nothing to do with not being in his body and everything to do with Harry’s breathy moans, his weight on him. 

“I want--” Harry clears his throat and bites at his lip, rutting slowly against Louis, as if to make his point. 

“What is it, Haz?”

“I kind of…” Harry starts trailing off. Louis takes the opportunity to kiss him again, and he whimpers at the contact. Tongues slick as they slide against each other.

Harry’s arms loop around Louis’ and he pulls his hand down around his arse. Spreading his legs farther, so he can press down impossibly closer.

He can’t help it, Louis squeezes the flesh in his hands and Harry grunts into his mouth, hips moving listlessly against him.

He’s pretty sure he knows what Harry wants just from the way he’s grinding down against him, trapping Louis’ cock under his bum. But he wants Harry to say it.

He pulls away, reluctantly moving one hand from Harry’s arse to his face, gently pressing against his cheek. “Harry, what do you want?” 

“I want your cock,” Harry’s voice breaks as he speaks, and all Louis can do is kiss him again, kiss any doubts he might have away until Harry melts into his arms. His thighs are warm and tight around his hips. 

“Want it like this? In my lap?” He asks, and he’s cupping Harry’s arse again, pulling him closer, assisting in the grind. It would be sick, Harry rocking on top of him like this, breath stuttered against Louis’ neck, cheek, mouth. 

Harry’s so hot pressing down against him, and this would be enough, really. If this was all Harry wanted. He doesn’t let up, trying to suppress his groans anymore, sweat and precome mixing to make for an easy glide between Harry’s arse cheeks. 

Harry stills and catches his breath when Louis’ cock rubs against his rim and Louis stills. “Haz?”

“I think, I think from behind.” He says and hiccoughs, arms trembling against the back of Louis’ neck. 

Louis exhales slowly to collect himself. Mutters, “Okay,” mostly for himself. They can do this. “I’m gonna move you, ‘kay, Haz?”

Harry nods and his muscles seem to relax in Louis’ embrace. He’s gentle as he helps Harry off his lap. Grabbing a pillow to place in the middle of the bed to support Harry’s hips. Harry goes easily, not even trying to rut against the sheets, looking back behind him. 

Harry’s closer to the discarded bottle of lube, and he passes it back to Louis, silently. Watching as he opens it up and spills it over his fingers, dripping some over the crease of Harry’s arse. 

He doesn’t stop looking back as Louis fingers him open, taking his time and working the angles he knows work so well for him. One finger becoming two, and then three, Harry’s eyes growing glassier, and his tongue poking out of his mouth. He pushes back against Louis’ hand, fucking himself onto his fingers. 

Louis keeps his eyes locked on Harry’s face. He can’t look at where his fingers disappear into Harry’s body, he knows that if he looks he’ll probably come on the spot. Harry’s clenching tightly around him rhythmically, egging him on. He’s so warm and needy, and it’s enough to make him hold on to the base of his cock, squeezing it tightly. 

Harry whines softly when Louis gets a good angle in, “If you keep going I’m going to come,” Harry grits out, sounding almost pained. And it’s probably true, his back is flushed, the back of his hair is matted with sweat. His thighs trembling as he parts them more to leave room for Louis. 

Louis swallows, withdrawing his fingers, and scrambling to find a condom in the nightstand. Harry’s still blinking lazily at him from where he lays, licking his lips as Louis sheaths himself and wraps a lube slick hand over his cock. 

Harry raises himself on the bed, lifting his hips up in an invitation, and Louis doesn’t waste any time, finger circling his rim before pushing the head of his cock against it. It’s a smooth glide, a smooth, scorching glide that has Louis gritting his teeth until he bottoms out.

“Fuck, Harry--” He gasps, Harry squeezing around him. It’s already too much. His cock is on fire and he can feel his heart pounding in his chest, in his pulse, his whole body humming with it.

Harry whines, something that sounds like, “Oh my God, move,” and Louis has to oblige him.

“This is actually,” Louis starts with a pant, trailing off, and it’s like Harry doesn’t even register the sound. His head is buried into a pillow, a mess of hair fanning out around his head. 

Louis pulls back to watch where his and Harry’s body connect. His dick -- Harry’s dick -- is sliding into his ass, nerve endings fizzing. His whole body his face his limbs all on fire. It’s actually happening.

It’s ridiculous, he can barely breathe he’s so turned on and yet-- “This is actually happening,” he stutters out. He can feel it coming, the laughter building in his belly along with the frissons of pleasure.

“What,” Harry deadpans, twisting below him.

Louis can’t help it, the laughter bubbles out. He’s fucking himself, Harry’s fucking himself, everything is weird. He’s so incredibly turned on, all of his nerves sizzling, heat and pressure building, pooling down to his groin and still, he can’t stop laughing.

“Why are you laughing? Stop it.” Harry pants and squeezes around him. Louis’ loses his tempo, faltering at the sensation. He has to brace himself on the bed, one hand trailing aimlessly on Harry’s lower back. 

“It’s you but it’s me, you know?”

“Can’t believe you’re talking about this right now,” Harry grits out and with force snaps his hips back against him. The laughter dies completely in his throat and he has to lock his legs to control himself. Harry must’ve taken his laughter as a challenge to fuck him to death but honestly he’s not going to complain. This is the perfect way to go, as far as he’s concerned. 

He barely has to move, keeping still as Harry works himself back on his cock and  _ god _ . He cradles Harry’s hips, pressing against the spots he knows are sensitive on Harry. He’s probably going to leave marks, thumbs digging in. 

They’re both a sweaty mess, and when Harry seems to lose momentum Louis starts grinding slow against him, pressure intent and steady against his prostate.

“Go ahead, touch yourself,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss against Harry’s back. Harry’s hand disappears beneath him. The muscles in his back and shoulders twitch as he jerks himself, making sounds that are slipping right under Louis’ skin.

Louis could come at any time, he’s been holding back for a bit now, and when Harry lets out a deep grunt Louis gets in one last deep thrust, spilling into the condom with Harry squeezing tightly around him.

They collapse immediately, and Louis carefully pulls out, rolling onto his back. It’s an effort to get up and discard the condom, his limbs feeling unhinged. Harry blinks at him from where he lays on the bed, eyes clearer than Louis has ever seen them.

Louis drops down next to him, getting as close as he possibly can, his foot rubbing against Harry’s shin. 

A breathless, “Oh my god,” escapes Harry's lips as they twitch, and he erupts in stifled laughter.

“You just got that?” Louis teases and Harry’s face somehow gets impossibly redder. He nods, nose pressing against Louis’ shoulder as he does. Louis would be perfectly happy with them staying like this for the rest of the day. It’s not like there’s any pressing matters to attend to. 

He clears his throat, hand rubbing against his chest.  “Well. I guess not a lot of people can say they fucked themselves.” 

“I always said I would if I could,” Louis jokes and Harry cringes. 

“Why are you like this?” He asks, before biting down on the swell of Louis’ bicep, moving up his shoulder. “Bloody insufferable.”

“You love it.”

Harry hums in response, but doesn’t speak. His fingers trail along Louis’ collarbones and down his chest. No aim in mind, just delicate touches. Louis closes his eyes and lets him explore. 

He can’t help the smile that’s threatening to take over his face. His cheeks are burning from smiling so wide, but he doesn’t even care. He’s got Harry with him in bed, sated and mellow. The atmosphere feels tender and raw, but not delicate. The gentle sweep of Harry’s fingers against his ribs grounding him in the moment. 

  
  


***

  
  


After a quick snooze Harry decides that he wants to shower. There’s no proper AC in the flat, so he feels like he’s covered in a thin film of sweat. 

Louis lets him go first, and by the time he’s done Louis announces that Nando’s is on the way and that he expects dessert. 

They eat in bed, a towel covering the duvet in case of spills, and watch Bake Off online. Each new challenge Louis asks if Harry can make the item, and what he’d do differently from the contestants. He ends up promising Louis he’ll make him some Eccles cakes, even though he’s quite sure Louis won’t like them. 

Dessert consists of ice cream sandwiches, and they compete on who can impersonate the other the best. The loser doesn’t get to use napkins to clean up. 

Harry is quite certain he does the best job imitating Louis, which he just won’t concede. As a consolation he agrees to lick Harry’s fingers clean, but he only gets through one hand before Harry can’t take it anymore, pulling him up and hungrily kissing him. Louis doesn’t seem to mind, climbing into Harry’s lap and leaning in closer, his weight comforting and familiar. 

At the 24 hour mark, they sit cross legged on the bed and stare at each other. They’re both in pants, their bare knees touching, and Harry can’t resist wiggling his foot free to scratch along Louis’ shin with his toes.

“Maybe we need to close our eyes,” Louis says, thumb rubbing against the inside of Harry’s knee before sitting up straight. 

Harry’s not quite sure how long they’ve been sitting like this, hasn’t really bothered checking the clock “How will we know that the time’s passed?” 

“We can set a timer.” Louis says, reaching down to the floor, slips his phone out of his pocket.  He sets the timer for 10 minutes for good measure. He drops it between them. 

They close their eyes. Harry can hear his own breathing, and Louis’, amplified in the quiet room. He shifts to get comfortable, and the hiss of the sheets is practically deafening. 

“How much time has passed?” He asks, even though he knows Louis can’t answer. He just wants to hear something other than the sounds their bodies are making. He’s pretty sure he can hear his heartbeat in his throat, his skin vibrating with each pulse.

At least Louis doesn't give him shit, just answers, “Dunno,” and lets out a long exhale. He doesn’t sound nervous which is a relief. If Louis is fine then so is he. He can start freaking out when Louis does. 

He tries to settle within himself, pressing his bum deeper into the mattress. Harry thinks he can feel things happening. But maybe it’s just his breath. And Louis’ breath. And the fact that they’re just sitting together in silence on his bed. Together. In silence. He’s pretty sure they’ve never been quiet for this long in each other’s presence. It’s weird. He wonders what Louis is thinking. Should he be thinking at all? What if Harry’s ruining it by thinking too much? 

“I really want to open my eyes.”  

“Don’t,” Louis says, and Harry can hear him and feel him move, his hand closing around his. It’s warm and dry, and he squeezes Harry’s palm hard. He has no idea how Louis isn’t sweating his ass off. 

He swallows thickly. The inside of his elbow itches a little bit. It would be nice to get a good scratch going. And his back too, maybe Louis would give him a massage? Maybe they can take turns.

“Do you feel different?” Louis asks, and Harry really wants to tell him what he wants to hear. 

He  squeezes his eyes shut harder. Maybe the elbow itch is the sign something is happening. If he concentrates really hard he thinks he can hear the blood rushing through his ears. Nerves prickling in his neck, the inside of his arm. He’s so acutely aware of every single one of his body parts-- something has to be happening. 

“I think my leg is falling asleep,”

“Hm, doesn’t sound right.” Louis says, the bed shifts under Harry as Louis moves to get up. 

“Louis?” He opens his eyes carefully not wanting to disobey. Louis is up and by the window. “You said to stay still!”

“S’clearly not working though, innit.” He goes towards the dresser, squatting down. “S’alright if I smoke?”

Harry shrugs. “I mean, I guess that’s up to you now.” He swallows, his throat feeling full and dry. Louis is rifling through his drawer for the pack of Mayfairs knocking about. This probably isn’t the right time to ask for a massage, although that would certainly help calm him down.

He watches Louis settle at the window sill, hanging halfway out the window as he lights up, taking care not to let the smoke blow back inside.

“Are you cross with me?”

Louis looks startled at the question, leaning back against the window. His flicks the cigarette with a drooping wrist, tapping away the burnt ash. 

“Why would you think that?”

“S’my fault.”

Louis shakes his head. “If I wasn’t smoking right now I’d come over there and shake some sense into you, you know.”

Harry shrugs, picking a wrinkle in the duvet. 

“I couldn’t be cross with you. I told you this morning, we could make a fortune, I’m sure.” He’s smirking now, but his expression is still warm and kind, completely unbothered. “Might have to give up regular life for that of travelling to science conventions or summat, but we’d make a fortune. Could build a proper life on that.”

Louis stubs out his fag against the windowsill with a  heavy sigh.

“What’s wrong?” Harry feels his eyebrows knit immediately, and he shifts on the bed, legs and spine tensing up at the thought of Louis being upset.

“I just realized since we're stuck like this I'm gonna have to replace your entire wardrobe, it's going to be expensive.”

“Hey! I thought you liked my clothes. You said I looked good in everything.”

“Yeah, but they're not me you know?” He steps towards the wardrobe, and trails his hand along the shirts in there. “Florals were never really my type of thing.”

“You don’t have to joke about it, you know.”

“M’not.” 

Harry makes a face at that, and Louis laughs. “I mean, yeah I’m kinda joking, but it’s still true, innit?”

Harry’s chest feels filled with air, light and oppressive all at the same time. He doesn’t know how Louis can just not care. He’s basically tied to Harry for good, without any chance of getting away. He says as much, not looking at Louis as he speaks.

“Why would I want to get away from you, H?”

Harry shrugs. “Just don’t want you to feel stuck.”

Louis laughs at that. He closes the window before crawling back into bed. “Don’t you get it? Woulda been stuck with you anyway. You couldn’t have gotten rid of me if you tried, even before this.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah S’too bad it took a bit of a supernatural cock up to get our shit together, but yeah. I’m stuck with you cuz I want to be.”

If feels like Harry’s insides are about to melt out of his body. Louis is blinking at him with an open expression and a smile, as if everything’s right in the world, but it isn’t, is it? 

“Do you think we cocked it up by...you know?” Louis blinks at him, face blank. Harry takes a deep breath, insides twisting at the potential answer. “By having sex and stuff?”

“What? No. Of course not. Wasn't this a love spell? Seems like it was successful.”

“I didn’t want to do that because of the spell.” Harry feels the need to clarify. It sort of hurts that Louis thinks that’s what would be driving him. “I would’ve wanted to anyway.”

“Helped though, didn’t it?” 

“Is that why you wanted to? Because of the spell?” Harry’s face feels hot, and there’s a stab of shame in his gut. But he has to ask. 

“Harry, no. Absolutely not. More like, in spite of it. Would take you anyway I could, you know?”

“You can’t just say stuff like that.” Louis distances himself at that, observing Harry carefully.

“It’s true though,” Louis sounds indignant, but his brows are furrowed with concern. “Unless we’re not on the same page which like, okay. I mean. I can deal with that I guess.” He’s speaking quickly, words running together. His jaw tensing as he swallows.

“No-- I’m not. I mean.” Harry has to pause, pulling Louis closer since he’s pulled away. “We’re on the same page. I just don’t get it? Why are you telling me this now? You’re saying you would have wanted to be with me anyway but you didn’t do anything about it? How am I supposed to take this seriously?”

Louis sighs, rolling his lower lip into his mouth. “Harry, I have my own drawer here. I always come back here when we’ve been out. We snuggle all the time. What else was I supposed to do? Wasn’t gonna accost you was I?”

It’s true, really, those are all things that Harry should’ve been paying more attention to but was apparently too caught up in his own head to notice. Louis was always there. And Harry was just silently pining like an idiot.

“Did you know that… that I fancied you?”

Louis looks away, as if he’s embarrassed. He shrugs but stays silent. This might be the most of an admission Harry will get unless he pushes more.

“Niall said I talk in my sleep.”

Louis’s gaze is sharp and suspicious. He doesn’t seem to trust the change of topic.  “Yeah.”

“So it’s true?”

“Did you not know that? Really Haz?” He sounds almost uncomfortable. 

“Have I said anything embarrassing then?”

“Everything people say in their sleep is embarrassing, you’re no exception.” He’s trying to joke. 

Harry sticks his tongue out at him for that. He has to push more though. “Is that how you knew I fancied you?”

Louis smiles tight lipped as if he’s bracing himself to answer. “I sort of figured maybe--” He clears his throat, nose scrunching. “Christ, this is awkward.”

“Tell me,” Harry says, endeared with how shy Louis seems all of a sudden.

“You never outright said you liked me, but you sort of talked about me a lot. Sometimes. When you weren’t talking about how the bed smelled like potato salad. So I sort of thought maybe there was a chance for us.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Harry feels like his heart is in his throat, his  skin feeling too tight and warm. He hadn’t realized he’d been so obvious. And Louis still hadn’t pulled away or treated him differently. 

“Didn’t want to put you on the spot, did I? Woulda been awfully presumptive of me. So you know, I just,” he pauses and shrugs. “Did what I could? Made myself indispensable in your life.”

“I wouldn't go that far,” Harry says with a laugh and Louis pokes at him, back in his space. This, this is new. He’s so used to Louis being in charge and confident with what he’s doing. He still has a bit of a hard time imagining him waiting around for Harry to catch up, but with the way Louis is ducking his head and twisting his mouth… he can see it. He doesn’t quite understand it yet, but he can see it. The easy confidence that pulls people in isn’t quite there when he’s talking about this. As if Harry’s sleep talk could have just been nonsense after all.

He grabs Louis’ wrist and wraps it around himself, and Louis’ face softens. 

“To think all we needed to get kicked in gear was an Irish intervention.”

“Nothing’s ever easy with you, is it Haz?” There’s no heat to it, and Harry presses his lips against the corner of Louis’ mouth. It’s brief, just a small reassurance before he turns back around.

“Look who’s talking.” Harry mutters and Louis just hums in response. 

“Got to keep up with you, don’t I?” Harry can feel Louis’ stomach expanding as he takes a deep breath, and his knees and legs shifting against his. He could get used to this, maybe. Perhaps Louis is right, and it’s not really that big of a deal. He speaks softer, ducking his head when he continues, "You know if I wasn't such a coward we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place. So it's as much my fault as it is yours, you know."

“You're right, I guess the blame is on both of us.” Harry can’t control his face, and he’s pretty sure he looks completely taken considering Louis responding smile. Louis lets go of Harry’s face and rolls over onto his side. Harry watches him. 

They snuggle in closer, the silence covering them like a drape. But this time it doesn’t feel weird or confining. It actually does feel like they’ll be okay, because it’s the two of them. 

The tension Harry’d been carrying around all day seems to dissipate. He wasn’t even aware of it until he feels his muscles relaxing. The strain in his forehead disappearing as Louis kisses him just below his hairline. 

“We’re gonna have to tell our mums, aren’t we?”

“They’d probably know if we tried to keep it from them.”

“Yeah.”

“At least me mum’ll be happy that we got our shit together.”

Harry wants to respond to that, wants to ask more about it. Wants to know all about Jay pestering Louis about Harry. He knows his mum has taken to melting into a fond smile every time Harry talks about Louis, which just made him not want to bring him up. Is that what happened to Louis too? 

He wants to ask, but Louis yawns widely in his face and he feels the pull from his own jaw as he mirrors him.

“Alright, sleepy head. All this emotional talk has me tuckered out.”

Harry nods his agreement, and doesn’t hesitate to turn around, fitting his back against Louis’ front. It’s… new, having the larger frame behind him, but he can probably get used to it. As long as it’s Louis, it’ll be fine. 

“I feel like such a stereotype, big bad spoon,” Louis mumbles as he cards his fingers through Harry’s hair. 

“Hey!” Harry tips his head back into Louis’ touch. The press of his fingertips against Harry’s scalp is a soothing. 

“Not in a bad way.” Louis noses the nape of Harry's neck, Louis mouth wet and open against his skin as he presses kisses there. “Just you know, I’m used to having more to hold on to. And I’ve got no curls to tickle me awake anymore, have I?”

“Mhm.” 

They’re silent for a beat, both of their breaths evening out. Harry can almost feel sleep enveloping them both, the surroundings hazy and blurry as his blinks grow slower. He’s almost drifted off when he asks, “Louis?” His voice already sleep rough and tired.

Still, he has to ask again.

“So we’ll be fine?”

“Of course, Haz, always.” 

Harry drifts off with those words echoing in his head. His chest feeling less tight and belly settled. 

 

-

 

Harry wakes up with a mouthful of hair. 

His first instinct is to snuggle in closer, the smell of Louis’ skin sharp against his nose. He wouldn’t mind a bit more of it, and he trails his nose along the nape of his neck, the tips of his hair tickling Harry’s nostrils.

He’s hard, of course. How could he not be with Louis’ bum snug against his groin. With every breath he moves a smidgen closer, and Harry can’t help but chase after the feeling, pressing closer.

“Someone’s an early riser,” Louis’ says, voice gruff and sleep soft, and it makes Harry smile until it hits him.

It’s actually Louis’ voice.

He blinks his eyes open, faced with the back of Louis’ head. Louis’ actual bum pressing closer to him, and his actual fingernails scratching softly along the inside of his arm.

“Louis, it worked. You were right.” He probably sounds manic, but he actually can’t believe it. “I actually can’t believe it.”

Louis stills, shuffles away from him and Harry actually winces at the loss of contact. How is he supposed to do without now that he’s had it. He pouts for effect when Louis turns around.

“Are you actually saying you’re surprised that I was right about something?” 

“I mean, who’d have thought it’d be that simple?”

“Who’d have thought all it took for this to happen in the first place was an Irish leprechaun chanting around a fire, tossing voodoo dolls in and smearing himself with black pudding.”

Harry barks out a laugh, and Louis pokes him in the chest, the corner of his eyes crinkling with delight.

“That’s not actually what happened.” 

“It’s a great visual though, innit.”

Harry doesn’t hesitate in pulling Louis closer. He’s not going to be coy about what he wants anymore. Louis comes easily, palm warm against his chest. 

“Yeah.”

“As much as I’d like to think I fucked us both out of our out of body experience I don’t think that’s it.” 

“You did not just….No.” Harry groans, but he can’t stop a smile from spreading so he covers his face with his hand, stifling his laughter. 

“What, is that a complaint?” Louis stretches out, a full body shiver passing over him. “I did a really good job, I thought.”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

“What? Can’t take pride in my work?” He pokes his tongue out. His hips press against Harry’s and he’s hard too, slowly rubbing against Harry. “Are you complaining?”

“No, no complaining.” Harry shakes his head. He grips Louis by the hips. He’s overcome with mirth and a desire to get closer, closer still, and he dips down to press his lips against Louis’. They slot together easily, and it’s just as good as it was yesterday, if not better. He pushes his tongue forward, wanting to taste the inside of Louis’ mouth, and suck on his lip. Louis resists, lips remaining closed but soft under him.

Louis pulls away, nose wrinkled. “Morning breath.”

“So you’re, you’re fine, then? With this?”

“With being back in my body? I reckon I’ll get used to getting on tiptoes to reach the tea, yeah.” He braces his feet against Harry’s shins, the heel rubbing his hair almost painfully, but Harry doesn’t want to lose the contact. 

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Told you I’d want you whichever way. Still mean it.” His face is soft, almost hesitant, his toes curling. “I'll miss the nail polish though.”

“I think I can help with that.” Harry teases, and presses his lips against Louis. He hums against him, lips warm and soft and it feels just as good, if not better than yesterday.

“Nice,” Harry murmurs, and Louis’ eyes crinkle.

“Were you worried, Harold?” He says with mock seriousness.

“Not at all.” Harry leans in closer, for another kiss. They keep it chaste, but Harry’s skin is still thrumming, and his hard on shows no signs of dissipating. 

Louis looks content when he pulls away. He blinks innocently at Harry, fingers trailing along his bicep, tickling the inside of his elbow. “Think you could help with this, too?” Pushing himself closer, hips almost flush with Harry’s and doing his best to rub up against him. 

“That’s terrible.” Harry laughs, but doesn’t let Louis pull away, grip tight on his hip as he grinds against Louis’ hard on. “But I suppose I could be convinced.”

“Oh?” Louis exclaims, and he opens his mouth as if to elaborate, but instead gasps as Harry moves to bite down on the lovebite on Louis’ collarbone, wanting to add some colour of his own. 

“You hungry yet?”

Louis shakes his head, a choppy breath escaping his lips as Harry pinches one of his nipples. “Can probably wait a lil bit,” he says, and it’s exactly what Harry wants to hear.

 

-

 

“So is this a thing, now?” Niall asks gesturing between Louis and Harry with his half eaten toast. They’re on the couch, sat in their normal spots, except now Harry’s stroking Louis’ leg, along his calf and pressing feather light touches along his ankles. He and Louis are sharing a plate of toast and bacon, resting on Louis’ thighs. 

“Wasn’t that the whole point?” Louis asks and Niall smiles wide and crooked.

“Do I get a thanks?” Niall adds with a smug grin.

“No,” Louis deadpans, and Harry can’t help but giggle into his tea. Niall’s narrowing his eyes at him.

“Did this happen before or after you swapped back?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Harry teases, wiggling his eyebrows. Louis barks out a laugh, leaning forward to press his fingers against Harry’s face.

“Let’s not traumatize him, H, we still need him to be grillmaster for the rest of the summer, at least.”

“True.” 

“You two are freakier than I give you credit for. Beyond what I’ve thought, I’ll tell ya that.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You don’t know the half of it,” he says.

“Heeey,” Harry drawls, pinching the meat of Louis’ calf. 

“S’not a bad thing, Haz,” Louis teases.  

Niall ignores him altogether, heavily dropping onto the bean bag at the foot of the sofa. 

“Gotta say, thank Christ your theory was right, didn’t want to tell you but my nan had no idea about how to reverse it.”

“What?” Harry exclaims just as Louis says, “You said your nan didn’t have a phone!”

Niall’s staring at them in disbelief. “Of course she has a phone she’s not a bloody peasant.”

"Wow, we must really have been out of it to have bought that lie," Louis grumbles, and really, it's true. Why on earth did the believe him? They'll have to get back at him for that later. 

“She really didn’t know how to fix it?” 

“She had an idea, but it involved waiting until a Saturday with a waning moon, to counteract the Friday full moon that this happened during. Something about moon powers or summat. Figured you my chances of surviving tell you lot it wasn’t reversible in the near future was nil, so I didn’t quite pay too much attention.” He beams at them from the floor. 

“How kind of you to bring it up now,” Louis drawls with a pointed look. “Anything else you’d like to share with the class?

“Well,” he says, drawing it out. He takes another bite of his toast, continuing with his mouth full. “Might’ve let the whole situation slip to Liam and he wants to come over and have that footie rematch with you, Louis.”

Louis gapes, mug of tea hovering above his mouth. “He wants to take advantage of our misfortune, and Harry’s shit footie technique to say he beat me? What kind of low life is he? I expected more from him.”

“Hey!” Harry exclaims, but it’s half hearted. “I can hear you, you know.”

Louis reaches out, patting him square in the face. Harry takes the opportunity to stick his tongue out and lick Louis’ palm. It doesn't seem to deter him.

“So you want me to tell him it’s off, yer back to normal?” Niall looks hopeful, which is the death knell to his suggestion. He should know better than that.

“Absolutely not,” Louis scoffs. “Waste such a golden opportunity to put him in his place? 

Louis scratches Harry’s jaw, completely unbothered by his damp palm. 

“Wanna pretend for another day? Really blow Liam’s mind?” He wiggles his eyebrows and Harry, mouth stretched wide. It’s a moot question, there’s isn’t much he could ask of Harry that he’d say no to at this point. 

“The couple that schemes together stays together.” 

“Christ, can you believe I’m stuck with this now?” 

“You know you love it.”

“I admit nothing.”

“Alright, I can take a hint. To think I don’t even get thanks.” Niall scoffs, getting up and turning his heel and leaving Harry and Louis to their breakfast.

Louis rolls his eyes, “Alright Nialler, me and Haz have some planning to do. Thanks for nothing.”

Niall waves at them while he leaves. Harry fully expects Louis to start ranting about their game plan, but he stays silent for now. Snuggling closer to Harry, trying to steal some of his tea. He’d let Louis have the whole damn mug if he wanted it, but he only takes a sip, pressing the mug back into Harry’s fist.  
  
  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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